I was surprised to read yesterday that Sgt. Tim Milsap, a U.S.
soldier killed in Iraq this week, was the first Wichita resident to
die in this war. Approximately 1 out of 778 Americans live in Wichita.
Thus far 1578 U.S. soldiers have died in Iraq, so a normal expectation
would have been two. One would have expected Wichita to be above average,
for lots of reasons that you don't have to read Thomas Frank to guess.
Part of my surprise was that I've heard news reports of dead soldiers
in the past, but it turns out that they all came from suburbs -- more
precisely, there have been four dead soldiers from Derby, KS. It might
be more accurate to describe Derby as a suburb of McConnell AFB, which
lies between Derby and Wichita. But four dead soldiers there is off
the scale -- about 24 times the normal rate given Derby's population.

Another reason I was surprised was that I remember that during the
Vietnam War two dead soldiers came from less than a block where I grew
up -- one next door. This just reminds me that the impact of the war
in Iraq is scarcely felt by most Americans: in my case one dead in a
city of 360,000, or five dead in a metropolitan area of over 500,000.
Given that there is no equalizing factor like the draft, the few deaths
that do occur are intensely concentrated in military enclaves, like
Derby and Leavenworth in KS. Even Vietnam, with some 55,000 dead U.S.
soldiers, had little direct impact on most Americans. (The ratio of
U.S. deaths in Vietnam to Iraq is currently 34 and dropping steadily,
but it will never come close to one because the U.S. military will
never be so wasteful of professional soldiers as they had been of
draftees.)

As it happens, I'm reading Anatol Lieven's America Right or
Wrong, and just came across this quote (p. 58): "While Americans
remember in their guts that Vietnam was an unpleasant experience the
repetition of which should be avoided, its deeper lessons remained
largely unlearned, and in our own time it has proved possible to
'reaffirm these discredited notions.' One reason for this was that
while the Vietnam War was a dreadful experience for those Americans
who fought in it, their numbers were small, and -- as mentioned
before -- unlike European and Asian wars, or for that matter the
experience of the Vietnamese, Americans at home were physically
unaffected: 'for most Americans the tangible consequences of the
debacle in Southeast Asia seem inordinately slight.' This lack of
personal knowledge of war was of course true of Reagan himself, and
is true of George W. Bush and all the other men in his administration
of 2000 to 2004 who were of military age during the Vietnam War but
for some reason failed to serve."

One could trace this back further, in that no American non-soldiers
have experienced war first-hand since Sherman marched through Georgia
under the motto "war is hell." (Well, except for a few plains Indians.)
One thing Lieven points out is how similar nationalist rhetoric is
between the U.S. today and Europe in the run-up to the 194 World War.
Europe and Asia learned important lessons from the two World Wars of
1914-45, but while U.S. soldiers paid a high price in those wars, their
domestic effect was to invigorate the economy and to bolster an arrogant
and ignorant culture of triumphalism. This culture is so pervasive that
the 9/11 terrorist attacks were taken to be acts of war, as if deep down
we suspected all along that we were due.

The article on Bush's press conference stressed how he's still
pushing Social Security privatization. Key line: "[Bush's] 60-day
campaign to pump up support for his proposal to partially privatize
Social Security failed to do so. Polls show fewer people support his
idea than before he started, and it is gaining no ground in Congress,
where virtually all Democrats and some Republicans oppose it."

Todd Tiahrt, whose congressional district includes Wichita, was
one of twenty Republicans to vote against undoing the ethic rule changes
that Tom DeLay had tried to cover his sorry ass with. Tiahrt has spoken
repeatedly in defense of DeLay -- he even went so far as to reiterate
DeLay's threats against "activist judges" on the same day DeLay was
apologizing for them. Note the careful wording above to avoid saying
that Tiahrt represents Wichita. Tiahrt represents Boeing, but because
he occupies the district congressional seat, nobody represents Wichita.
I maintain that he's the worst congressman in the country, but on the
evidence of this vote he still has nineteen competitors.

Senator Sam Brownback has taken over the District of Columbia
committee in the Senate. His first act there was to make sure that
gay marriages performed in Massachusetts won't be recognized as legal
in D.C. While most of what Brownback does is obnoxious, please excuse
me if I take this one personally. I have a niece, born and raised
here in Wichita, who went to college in Boston, met a nice girl and
got married there. They've recently moved to D.C., where my niece
is studying law. Most people look at political issues as something
rather abstract, failing to recognize the real people impacted. This
is one case where I can fill in a real person, and in that context
Brownback is nothing but a priggish homewrecker.

The Iraqi parliament has finally approved a cabinet 88 days
after the highly-touted election. It remains to be seen whether it
will have any real power. The real test will be in throttling the
U.S. military presence, which has an uncanny knack for making bad
things worse. But the many compromises required to overcome the
two-thirds hurdle are likely to undermine the authority of the new
government, which again is probably part of the plan. Quisling PM
Iyad Allawi is out, as is his entire list. Nothing to date promises
to split the resistance by bringing Sunni Arabs into government.
Some of the appointments are "temporary" -- the most astonishing
one is convicted crook, Iranian spy, and former Pentagon darling
Ahmad Chalabi as Petroleum Minister. Not that Iraq is pumping much
oil these days, but he can probably steal plenty anyway.

I came across a book last night by Morris P. Fiorina called
Culture War? The Myth of a Polarized America. It makes use
of extensive polling info to establish that most Americans still
have moderate positions on most politico-cultural issues. The rest
of the bookshelf argues otherwise, and incredible as it may seem
there's been an uptick in the incivility of the far right -- new
titles include Ann Coulter's How to Talk to a Liberal (If You
Must) and Michael Savage's Liberalism Is a Mental Disorder.
Less nasty but more worrisome are the spate of new let's-bomb-Iran
books, including one from the hack who wrote the bestseller against
Kerry's Vietnam record, Unfit for Command. Fiorina is probably
right, but there's no hay to be made from that for the right, and
mass opinions are so couched in ignorance that they don't interest
much the left -- I for one would rather read something about the
real world than merely redigesting opinions. But Fiorina may have
some tactical value: issues where the right diverges from the more
moderate middle are opportunities to show how extremist the right
has become. The political spectrum is not balanced between right
and left. The right is in its own world, and the left is trying
to cope with the real one while fending off constant attacks from
the right. Bush's Social Security schemes are one key rea where the
moderate middle has proven to be defensible ground.

Kansas dodged another anti-abortion bullet when Gov. Kathleen
Sebelius vetoed a bill designed to harrass abortion clinics by piling
tons of unnecessary regulatory paperwork on them. Same bill passed
and was vetoed last year, and will continue to do so until they get
a pliant governor or a few more legislative zealots, in which case
they'll start conjuring up something even worse. Moderation don't
work with the anti-abortion fanatics -- they take everything you
concede, and keep coming back for more.

I just got word that Howard Johnston passed away. He was
an outstanding supporter of the peace community here in Wichita,
and will be missed sorely.

The Onex buyout of Boeing's Wichita plays is hung up in giveback
negotiations between Onex and the unions. Onex wants pay cuts, benefit
cuts, work rule changes, a big layoff regardless of seniority. Evidently
the whole deal could crash. If so, Boeing will probably be vindictive.
One irony is that they have so much work backed up right now that many
Boeing workers are doing overtime. The backstory here is political, not
economic.

Wichita has paid Airtran $7.5 million in subsidies to get a
discount route to Atlanta. Before the deal the airlines systematically
jiggered their prices to make it twice as expensive to fly to Wichita
as to Kansas City or Oklahoma City, but with Airtran as an option
prices have come back down all across the board. In other words, the
subsidy managed to break down the airlines' price fixing, which is
more than the U.S. Antitrust enforcers have tried to do. Now Delta
wants a subsidy, and for leverage they've lobbied the FAA to cancel
federal grants to Wichita's airport because Wichita unfairly subsidizes
their competitor. I still believe that the best solution would be for
Wichita to start our own airline, with its hub here. The airline would
be owned by a wide range of local citizens, much like fans in Green
Bay own the Packers. It wouldn't be a publicly held company, but it
would be owned by enough of the public to remain responsible to the
public.

Knight Ridder headline: "Democrats' goals: limit abortion,
trim deficit." This is unspeakably stupid. Admittedly, we're talking
about Congressional Democrats, but even they should realize that the
options are nil for doing anything constructive with Bush in the White
House and the Republicans in complete control of Congress and much of
the judiciary, not to mention most of the media and business lobbies.
The only worthwhile thing Congressional Democrats can do is to scream
bloody murder and obstruct whatever Republican schemes they can. And
they can't do it by adopting watered-down Republican positions. What
the Republicans are doins is flat-out wrong, ignorant at best, evil
more often than not.

Chicago Tribune headline: "Democrats change tactics in Social
Security debate." Evidently the old tactics were too successful, so
they've decided to give the Republicans another chance.

Knight Ridder headline: "Iraqis impatient as leaders stumble."
If Bush had to get 2/3 approval of Congress to form his government,
he'd stumble a bit too. Although given that the Democrats have only
found ten of several hundred Bush judicial appointees bad enough to
challenge, they probably wouldn't be effective anyway. (John Bolton
doesn't look like he has much chance even now.) It's been 86 days
since Iraq's elections without the majority-elected part being able
to take power. This has been sabotaged by the Bush Administration's
transitional laws.

AP headline: "Bush seeks Saudi help to reduce oil prices."
Of course. No sweat. I mean, look at all Bush has done to help out
the Saudis. One good turn deserves another. What goes around comes
around. Right.

Music: Initial count 10560 [10527] rated (+33), 882 [868] unrated (+14).
Spent most of last week working on the RG backlog. I have more than I need
for May, and almost have June filled up -- final cut and intro not done
yet, but for once I'm on top of this. Have plenty of ratings for JCG as
well, just need to focus and write, which will be the task this week.

The Essential Kris Kristofferson (1969-99 [2004],
Columbia/Legacy, 2CD). Christgau's review of Kristofferson's first
album bites as hard as his legendary putdown of Phil Ochs' guitar
playing (from memory: "couldn't be worse if his fingers were webbed"):
"But he's the worst singer I've ever heard. It's not that he's off
key--he has no relation to key. He also has no phrasing, no dynamics,
no energy, no authority, no dramatic ability, and no control of the
top two-thirds of his six-note range." With practice he got better,
but not much. He was, at least, a pretty good songwriter, best known
for "Me and Bobby McGee," which is best known for Janis Joplin, who
could sing. But he went further as an actor than in music, and not
much here extends beyond 1980: one cut "recorded late '90s" (released
1999), just four more from the '80s. The first disc here doesn't get
past 1971: his two best-known albums (including the one Christgau
was complaining about, although he liked the second one even less).
The second picks up a few duets-or-more, including a cut by the
Highwaymen. Two good songs there: "Jesus Was a Capricorn" ("owed
to John Prine") and "If You Don't Like Hank Williams." B-

Cyndi Lauper: At Last (2003, Epic/Daylight). I like
the back cover, where you see her back, in black evening gown and long
black gloves, arms raised, apparently singing over a expanse of water
aimed at the Statue of Liberty, which rather vacantly waves back. On
the front cover she appears to be emerging, in same evening gown and
gloves, from a manhole, which is probably where she found her career.
The covers inside are less amusing. She doesn't exactly have a voice
for "Unchained Melody" or "La Vie en Rose"; more surprisingly, she's
too far gone to have fun with anything here. The closest thing to a
high point is a bit of Stevie Wonder harmonica. C-

Jennifer Lopez: On the 6 (1999, Work). Christgau
flagged "Let's Get Loud" as a Choice Cut, then ignored the rest of
her career (at least to date): she's recorded a record per year,
but no turkey shoot, no duds, no honorable mentions, no more choice
cuts, nothing near the A-list. This isn't real surprising: after
all, music is just a sideline to her career. She's a good actress,
capable of playing Plain Jane roles she should be ridiculous in.
The camera loves her, as does Blender and Rolling Stone, not to
mention Playboy, where she developed her first fan base. She can
sing, and she has connections -- she was hanging with Sean Combs
(aka Puff Daddy) when this came out. But there isn't much here:
the latin moves feel fake, even with Marc Anthony in tow; the rap
with Big Pun and Fat Joe is throwaway, and "Let's Get Loud" doesn't
strike me as all that choice either. C+

Jennifer Lopez: This Is Me . . . Then (2002, Epic).
Where her first album sounded like an effort to try to synthesize a
public persona around a model with ambitions of acting and singing
(a bit), this one sounds like they've given up trying. Evidently,
the records sell readily enough based on fame and cheesecake, so
this doesn't sound like anything -- doesn't even sound bad. Guess
we can classify it as Corporate Soul, but even that's a joke worn
thin. C

Wayne Newton: Ultra Lounge: Wild, Cool & Swingin'
(1963-67 [1999], Capitol). Following the fine print in this "File
Under 'Lounge'" series: Artist Series, Volume Four. He was a freak,
with a boyish voice backed by flashy big bands, a career launched
on TV and institutionalized in Las Vegas. I avoided him until I had
to admit that "Danke Schoen," on the Milt Gabler comp, was pretty
good. So I ran across this underdocumented comp at the library, and
now I have questions, like where did that sax solo on "But Not for
Me" come from? I'm impressed by two things here: one is that the
uncredited big band kicks ass, and this from a period when most
such bands were on life support; second is Newton's professionalism.
This particular compilation seems to have gone out of its way to
pick songs indelibly identified with major performers: Nat King
Cole ("L-O-V-E"), Frank Sinatra ("Strangers in the Night"), Tony
Bennett ("I Left My Heart in San Francisco"), Dean Martin ("Volare"),
and Newton hangs tough on all of them. He doesn't even get tripped
up on stuff he has no business doing, like "Ol' Man Moses" (Louis
Armstrong) and "Michelle" (you know who). Nothing brilliant, but
far exceeds my expectations. B+

Unclassics: Obscure Electronic Funk & Disco 1978-1985
([2004], Environmental). Europe's take on disco was to lay off the
soul vocals they couldn't hack and marvel in the beat machinery --
indeed, anything mechanical, not least processed robot-speak; the
13 cuts Morgan Geist rounded up here are more "un" than classic,
freaks of evolution as newly discovered legacy, all the more welcome
because they tap straight into the aorta of modern dance music.
A-

I started writing this entry a few days back, lost my thread, and
don't seem to be able to get it back. I had the idea that the right's
more paranoid mode of discourse is a muddled acknowledgment of major
problems coming -- in many ways the same problems that we fear, even
if they articulate them differently, and propose a radically different
course of action. One of the big problems we have is that the political
concepts, even the language, that we filter our perceptions through
gives us distorted ideas about the nature of these problems and what
to do about them. It looks like it's going to be a long hard project
to sort them out. I think that a lot of our misunderstandings go back
to the ideologies and practices of anti-communism -- a program that
went beyond opposing a few hostile, tyrannical states to promoting
the interests of capital over labor worldwide, and which operated by
politicizing the most conservative religious sectors and by forging
alliances with corrupt agents all around the third world. (In effect,
war against the communist left advanced the power of the right against
everyone.) The success of anti-communism added to the prestige of the
military and espionage organs, psyched all the more to find new enemies.
But there are deeper channels that concern us: the idea the pursuit
of self-interest is always best; the idea that the world imposes no
finite limits on the economy; the idea that the world can always be
made to conform to our wishes; the idea that our ends justify whatever
means. As political discourse has become corrupted -- as it has become
a mere tool to advance political aims -- we've lost our objectivity,
our connection to reality. Increasingly this disconnection gives way
to myth and fantasy, vouchsafed by faith and impervious to reason.
Religion has always been a method of coping with ignorance; it gives
us conviction in the face of fears. As the future becomes ever more
uncertain religion has increasingly become an attempt to hide deep
in an imagined past. The fears are real, and faith prepare us poorly
to face them.

The sense that we in the United States are headed towards disaster
is palpable and growing. The left, of course, is obsessed with this,
but the paranoid rants from the right are equally convincing. Another
sign is the alarming growth and aggressiveness of religion in public
life. Faith has always been a tonic for fear. Religion is defensive:
it seeks to bind us together through shared ritual and myth, and by
separating us from the other. Before civilization people defended
themselves by huddling together in tribes. All of the progress that
we have achieved -- longer lives, population growth, material wealth,
science and culture -- came about by breaking down tribal boundaries.
For much of the 20th century the U.S. was at the forefront of this
civilization -- admirable in concept if not always in fact -- but
something very profound has gone wrong, and today we find ourselves
in the midst of a frantic retribalization.

It's tempting to let loose a scathing critique of religion, but
that would be like treating a fever instead of the infection that
caused it. Religion is symptomatic; one of many, like knee-jerk
patriotism and blustering militarism, tribalism with fangs and a
nasty snarl. When disaster falls, the country is likely to break
along longstanding faults in its foundation, but picking at such
old cracks as racism won't help much either. The problems that we
face are profound. Let's try to list a few of them, in no particular
order:

The earth's population of human beings has expanded to levels
that are absolutely unprecedented, and continues to grow. Virtually
all of the earth's inhabitable land area and most of its biosphere
have been taken over to support this population. Arguments over how
many people the earth can support are complex and varied, but it
seems merely a matter of time before we start banging up against
limits imposed by the finite size of the planet. The U.S. may be
particularly vulnerable to those limits, for two reasons: (1) our
own habits in using natural resources have historically been more
wasteful than in most other countries; and (2) most of the rest of
the world aspires to our standards and habits of living, so demand
is likely to increase much faster than population. Each resource
poses its own limits and issues. We've already seen local depletion
of resources like fisheries and forests. We've seen how limits on
the supply of oil has had significant economic effects even where
real shortages do not yet exist.

Human activity has already become so extensive that it is
having a measurable impact on the earth's climate, and is likely
to perturb the climate in significant and unpredictable ways.
This occurs in many ways, ranging from local discharges of toxic
wastes to a global increase in carbon dioxide which tends to trap
solar heat in the atmosphere to a global increase in atmospheric
particles which tends to reduce the amount of solar energy that
reaches the earth. Present human settlement patterns are very
sensitive to climate, so climatic dislocations are likely to
produce amplified disruptions.

Humans are also threatened by natural disasters, such as
earthquakes. These are presumably not affected by human activity,
but the more intensely we settle the earth the pronounced are the
risks and consequences. For example, two 8+ magnitude earthquakes
in Missouri had very little human impact back in 1811-13 but a
future repeat would cause almost unimaginable damage. Extreme
climate events are also considered natural disasters, and again
their impacts are amplified by intensive settlement.

We depend heavily on advanced technology for most of the
things we do. That technology is often poorly understood and
carries various risks including software defects, susceptibility
to misuse, and unintended consequences. The Y2K crisis was one
instance of this -- in that particular case fears were promoted
for business purposes, but it tapped into a deeper unease. Many
technologies have been promoted widely then found to be harmful,
including asbestos, lead, DDT, freon, and many pharmaceuticals.
There are many issues surrounding nuclear power. The list could
go on and on and on.

New diseases appear with some frequency and can spread
very fast given fast air travel and greater population density.
AIDS is one new disease that has already had a major demographic
impact, especially in Africa. Recent outbreaks of Ebola, SARS,
and avian flu have produced epidemics. There also appears to be
increasing trends in cancers and other disorders that may be
particularly related to environmental factors. These risks are
increased in countries which do not have adequate public health
care systems -- a growing problem in the U.S.

Development and proliferation of advanced military systems,
including the so-called Weapons of Mass Destruction is a major
source of concern in many parts of the world. In the U.S. most
people worry about such weapons falling into the hands of Rogue
States and terrorists. In most of the rest of the world people
worry more about the U.S. and its trigger-happy regime.

There exists currently vast iniquities of wealth by all
definitions, both between and within nations, and in many cases
the gaps are widening -- the U.S. is one such case. This creates
the perception that political and economic power is being wielded
unjustly, which creates resentment in many forms, ranging from
apathy to crime to rebellion. Crisis amplifies resentment, and
may also lead those in power to press their relative advantages
even harder in order to minimize their losses, further amplifying
resentment. (Conversely, people who feel that their social order
is just are more likely to share the burden of hardships.) The
dominant model of capitalism is very unbalanced in its favoring
capital over labor and developed over underdeveloped worlds.

The U.S. has many specific political and economic problems.
With its weak labor rights the U.S. exports jobs while building up
huge trade deficits. The economy is therefore hugely dependent on
an inflow of foreign profits and capital. With declining real wages,
the economy has also long been pumped up by increased debt. The U.S.
government itself runs a large deficit, also accumulating debt which
has recently been satisfied only by foreign lenders -- chiefly China
and Japan. The political system itself has become very corrupt, so
little of its spending contributes to public capital: military and
security expenses are almost totally unproductive. These factors
have already resulted in significant decline in the value of the
dollar. Stock market equity has barely held steady despite massive
political preference shown to capital, and real estate prices have
bubbled up based on record low interest rates, but both are quite
precarious.

It also seems to be a fact of human nature that even when
we objectively have less to fear we develop new and more troubling
fears. Most subjective fears that Americans have are if anything
wildly exaggerated -- not least of which is fear of terrorism. Part
of this is because common subjective fears have been manipulated
by political and business interests. Manipulation of fear has been
a major part of most U.S. political campaigns in recent memory,
especially those of the Republican party. This happens more and
more becuase it has proven effective, and in business as well as
politics the only thing that matters anymore is winning. That
means short-term thinking -- what you can get away with now,
regardless of the consequences.

That list, at least, strikes me as one general way to sum up the
core problems. On top of this list one can add another thanks to the
amazingly counterproductive instincts of our political ideologues.
Worried about gas prices? Give more tax breaks to oil companies.
Crime? Build more prisons. Drugs? Tougher sentences. Terrorism? Go
kill Muslims. Can't get health insurance? Tighten up the bankruptcy
laws. Faulty, untrustworthy high-tech products? Sounds like a job
for Tort Reform. But this is more than ineptness: it shows that
we've developed some fundamental misunderstandings about how the
world works. And while these seem to be highly concentrated among
the neoconservatives, the neoliberals fare little better. Indeed,
the old left-right political dichotomy has been supplemented by
something new and ominous. Traditionally the right has been the
party of property rights, against which the left advocated broader
human rights. There is at least room for compromise along that
axis, but politics today, at least in the U.S., splits along
lines that are impossible to merge: between science and faith, or
more pointedly, between reality and fantasy. Clinically, this is
starting to look like a question of sanity, but nobody really wants
to go there.

Francis Davis wrote a piece in the
Village
Voice this week on Verve's reissue of fifteen albums of circa 1970
avant-garde jazz originally issued on the America label in France. I
have these records, and will get to them when I get to them, but for
now I just want to point out two things: (1) faced with such volume
Davis did the simplest, most comprehensive thing: he did a paragraph
on each artist, clumping albums together in only two cases; and (2)
he didn't grade them, leaving the reader wondering whether, and how
much, he likes each one. Grades are not without problems, but they do
convey useful information very compactly. I don't know whether the
idea of grading came up during the writing or editing. Aside from its
utility grading carries a lot of baggage, but the main downside is
that it urges the critic to be judgmental, even in cases where it's
sufficient just to be informative. I haven't gotten very deep into
these records -- haven't yet played most of them -- but offhand I'd
say they're less likely to be great albums than interesting ones in
their historical context.

Davis also wrote about new albums by Ted Nash and Grachan Moncur III.
I like the Nash quite a bit, but don't much care for the Moncur -- an
octet album, a configuration I often find unwieldly. Larry Blumenfeld
has a piece on the David S. Ware live set, which I've written a JCG
entry on (A-, unpublished, and probably now deprioritized). One comment
I'll quibble with: "Bassist William Parker and pianist Matthew Shipp,
who've ranged widely to great acclaim as leaders, do their most complete
work with Ware." Unless "complete" has some meaning I hadn't met yet,
that's way off base: Ware is such a dominant presence that they are
inevitably role players, even though they are such strong individuals
that they make their mark nonetheless -- especially in the more open
concert space. I've listened to most of their albums, and they do lots
more on their own than they do with Ware. (In particular, I've pencilled
Parker's new quartet record, Sound Unity, in as a Pick Hit for
the next JCG.)

Speaking of Parker, Downbeat gave Charlie Haden a blindfold
test in their May 2005 year, and Haden was totally flumoxed by a Parker
sample, finally commenting, "I don't know who William Parker is, or any
of the other players." The others [Rob Brown, Cooper-Moore, Susie Ibarra]
I can sort of understand, but Parker? This must say something about how
isolated circles of jazz musicians have become.

Movie: Sin City. Too misanthropic, not to mention too
gory, for my tastes, even with the artificing filters of black/white
cinematography, spot color, and minimizing effects where live action
jumps back onto the pages of the comic strip. Unless, that is, the
central story of the ruthlessly corrupt politician (Powers Boothe)
and his saintly cannibal son (Elijah Wood and/or Nick Stahl) is meant
as an analogue to the Bush clan, in which case they've managed to paint
an even viler image than I could imagine. Power corrupts, and absolute
power is off the scale. Then there's the matter of the amazon whores,
which reminds me that this is mere fantasy. B

Movie: The Merchant of Venice. This was the first
play I ever read by Shakespeare -- in fact, the first and only piece
of classic literature that I ever read in high school and actually
appreciated. Most recently, I ran across Shakespeare quoted at some
length in Michael Hedges book on war, where he drew fine points on
the folly of ill ambitions. Shakespeare's influence on the English
language is so profound that his Jewish financier's name here has
been parlayed into an anti-semitic stereotype, but anti-semitism
is in the mind of the beholder, including its opponents. As I hear
this, Shylock has his just reasons for sealing the deal for a pound
of Antonio's flesh: the latter's Christian hauteur is so warped by
his sense of superiority that he scarcely considers his risk. But
in rejecting the plea for mercy Shylock falls prey to his own ill
designs, as the power he thought he had under right of law turned
against him. Mercy, it seems, is a one-way street in old Venice.
In the end Shylock is stripped and beaten, losing his daughter, his
money, and his identity, as Antonio's own bigoted sense of mercy
insists that forced conversion is a blessing. Michael Radford's
movie goes far in framing this story, and Al Pacino's performance
is powerful and moving. A-

Africa Unite: In Dub (2005, Echo Beach). The group
name comes from a Bob Marley song, reinforced here by the opening
remix of Marley's "Is This Love." The second piece is an exceptionally
lovely one called "A Sangue Freddo E In Pieno Dub" -- after all, the
group, which dates back to 1981, comes from Italy. Much of the rest
was mixed or remixed, dubbed or redubbed, by Mad Professor -- a
relationship that isn't especially clear, especially given that I
haven't heard dub so light and graceful since Augustus Pablo. Just
goes to show that dub is universal, world music defined not as foreign
but as coming from everywhere. A-

Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass: Whipped Cream & Other
Delights (1965 [2005], Shout! Factory): An album of food
songs, more famous for Dolores Erickson's cover pose 'neath a
mountain of shaving cream than for the tune that got mashed up
with Public Enemy for my favorite bootleg of 2003. B

Altan: Local Ground (2005, Narada): For 20+ years
one of Ireland's most famous groups, I've seen them described as
"traditional" and "contemporary" and "fusion" even, but can't begin
to tell the difference; fiddle and accordion, guitar and bouzouki,
vocals by a fair maid named Mairead Ni Mhaonaigh, I'm tempted to
call this "typical" or "exemplary" but again I'm unclear on the
distinction. B

Alpha Blondy: Elohim (1999 [2005], Shanachie).
French reggae from Cote D'Ivoire, its loose skank sounding much
cheerier than the words, which detail transitions from fake
democracy to dictatorship, to sabotage and kleptocracy, and
(perhaps metaphorically) on to cannibalism. B+

Kate Campbell: Songs From the Levee (1995 [2004],
Compadre). Her first album, remastered with bonus alternates of songs
likely to show up on a genuine best-of -- "A Cotton Field Away,"
"Trains Don't Run From Nashville," "Bury Me in Bluegrass," but not the
one extolling the comforts of "Jerusalem Inn."
B+

Kate Campbell: The Portable Kate Campbell (2004,
Compadre).
Born the daughter of a Baptist preacher in New Orleans, raised in
Mississippi, educated in Alabama, works these days out of Nashville:
Campbell is a singer-songwriter usually filed under folk because
her music and her observations are so straightforward. The major
event in her life was the civil rights breakthrough of the '60s,
which she recalls in "Crazy in Alabama" and "Bus 109" with some
amazement -- she was a young child at the time, discovering wrong
in the heady atmosphere of fixing it. She recorded seven albums
before signing with Compadre, at which point she remastered her
first album and rerecorded most of the next three -- to capture
how the songs have evolved along with her life. This one gets
the more story-like songs -- historical, topical, secular. Good
place to start.
A-

Kate Campbell: Sing Me Out (2004, Compadre).
A second helping of rerecordings from her second through fourth albums,
plus one new one called "Would You Be a Parson"; thematically they
reflect a world tied to the church -- perhaps her father's church --
all the way down to the "Funeral Food." But the title song is more
universal.
B+

Patsy Cline: The Definitive Collection (1956-63
[2004], MCA Nashville). Owen Bradley's reputation as a legendary
producer begins and should have ended with Cline. His countrypolitan
strings and choral goop are like makeup that looks gorgeous on one
star, garish on another, and pointless on a third. Cline's voice could
take it, and basked in its glory, but when you listen to her later
songs -- even the magnificent "Sweet Dreams" -- you can hear the
treatment wearing thin. She became an icon when Jessica Lange played
her in Sweet Dreams, and her work has been consistently and
confusingly in print ever since. Few singers have been anthologized so
completely and so insensitively: look at her pictures and what you'll
see isn't Lange -- it's a big-boned, gawky country girl; listen to her
songs and what you'll hear isn't Bradley's soup -- it's an ideal
country voice that towers above the arrangements. This is obvious if
you search out her live albums -- Live at the Opry and Live
at the Cimarron Ballroom. But her studio hits, Bradley and all,
were her legend, and this does a fine job of presenting them. She was
a singer who could claim "Half as Much" from Hank Williams, "Faded
Love" from Bob Wills, "Crazy" from Willie Nelson, "Sweet Dreams" from
Don Gibson, "Always" from Irving Berlin. A

The Essential Dion (1961-68 [2005], Columbia/Legacy).
Four key early hits tilt this toward the doo-wop he is famous for and
away from his interesting '60s folksinger phase (c.f. Bronx Blues:
The Columbia Recordings), but a couple of oddities break the mood,
and at 14 singles-length cuts it feels arbitrarily short. The first
half, of course, is marvelous, the transition from the Laurie hits to
the early Columbias seamless. That could have been doubled into a
better comp than anyone has assembled from his hard-to-find Lauries.
Career-spanning is difficult with Dion: aside from the disjunction
when he moved towards folk, he has several decades worth of odd and
infrequent comebacks, not without interest. But it's impossible to
put them together and come up with a coherent whole, so you gotta
pick your spots and work with them. B+

A People's History of the Dismemberment Plan
(2003, DeSoto). A tombstone for a group with four albums from
1995-2001. Christgau liked them quite a bit, but the only one
I bought sits ungraded on the shelf, the lyrics unfathomed,
the punkish herky-jerk rhythms unappreciated. Thought this
evident retrospective might help, but it confounds the issue,
because it's not a retrospective -- it's a remix collection.
That accounts for the suplus of dub effects, but the overall
indigestibility persists. Not uninteresting, but probably not
the best place to start, either. One of these days I'll go
back and dig up the unrated Emergency & I. B

The Insect Trust: Hoboken Saturday Night (1970
[2004], Collectors' Choice). The only person I'm aware of who has
proclaimed this strange album a masterpiece also annointed himself the
Dean of American Rock Critics. The album is so deeply ensconced in
Christgavian lore that when I played it for someone who had known the
Dean even longer than I have she expressed surprise -- said she had
always figured it for an urban legend. I managed to track down a
scarce copy sometime back in the '70s, but hadn't made much sense of
it. Even today it is sui generis, and only partly a creature of its
time. They weren't anywhere near jazz, even though two members played
reeds and flutes, and the guy they brought in to play drums on the
album was none other than Elvin Jones. They mixed the horns with banjo
and steel guitar, took lyrics from Thomas Pynchon and one member's
six-year-old son, and featured a singer, Nancy Jeffries, whose
in-your-face style anticipated the Waitresses' Patty Donahue. This was
eclectic bohemia, postmodern before modernism had given up the ghost.
A-

Ladysmith Black Mambazo and the Strings of the English Chamber
Orchestra: No Boundaries (2004, Gallo/Heads Up): This
sounds uncommonly pretty at first, but the strings are standard
issue euroclassical and by the end they've sucked the life blood
from this marvelous mbube choir; let's hope they recover. B-

Misha Mengelberg: Two Days in Chicago (1998,
Hatology, 2CD). You can focus on Mengelberg's style on the 27-minute
"Chicago Solo" which opens the second disc (the "Live" one). In
particular, he likes to punch out rhythm figures with his left
hand while his right hand works flights of fancy. This seems
simple enough on its own, but when he works in groups he brings
life to the party. Groups is what he found in Chicago. The first
disc (the "Studio" one) features various trios and quartets,
including two cuts with a trio filled out by Ken Vandermark and
Hamid Drake, and two longer ones in a quartet with Fred Anderson,
Kent Kessler, and Drake. Anderson doesn't match Vandermark's flow
and volubility, but he makes for an interesting contrast, and
Kessler has rarely played better. The Studio disc (first, but
recorded later) is quite wonderful. The Live disc takes more
patience. Not sure who plays in the duos there (most likely Ab
Baars). B+

Mystikal: Prince of the South . . . the Hits
(1995-2004, Jive/Zomba). The gravel in his voice reminds one of
Howlin' Wolf, and the beats and rhymes are tough enough to make
you wonder what Wolf might have done had he lived in an era when
he could exaggerate his attitude instead of having to circumscribe
it; one would hope that Wolf might have come up with something
deeper than "Shake Ya Ass," but the odds of catchier are slim.
A-

Olivia Newton-John: Greatest Hits (1973-76 [1984],
MCA). An object-of-hate back when she broke out, not so much because
her big hit aspired to trite cliche ("Have You Never Been Mellow")
as because some hucksters considered this England-native the next
big thing in country. Nowadays the hit wouldn't be unwelcome on a
well-selected comp of '70s pop twaddle, and the steel guitar on
"Please Mr. Please" makes for a nice follow-up. But "Sam" is still
awful. As her compilations go, this one is short at twelve songs,
but the chances that a longer one might improve on it are slim.
C+

The Essential O'Jays (1972-78, Epic/Legacy). Upbeat
even though their people had much to fret about, probably because they
made money while black power burned, but compared to what came later
they were public spirited; and scoured of the slick Philly crud that
padded their albums, here they sound classic. A-

Art Pepper: Straight Life: The Savoy Sessions
(1952-54 [1984], Savoy). Pepper's earliest work was most clearly
following in Charlie Parker's footsteps. Pepper had a much sweeter
tone on alto sax than Parker, and he missed some of Parker's
rhythmic quirks, giving him a smoother, more measured attack.
Perhaps this was because his big band education was under Stan
Kenton whereas Parker started with Jay McShann. But the program
was much the same, and it's rarely less than tantalizing. A-

Washington Phillips: The Key to the Kingdom
(1927-29 [2005], Yazoo): An exceptionally clean and conscientious
restoration of ancient recordings by the mild-mannered gospel
troubadour, who revealed, "I am born to preach the gospel, and
I sure do love my job." B+

Putumayo Presents: Mali (1999-2005, Putumayo World
Music). One of the most fertile musical regions of Africa, the
distinctive strings and plaintive griots as bare and open as the
margins of the Sahara; this is agreeable enough, but lacks star
power, and falls well short of the country's heritage. Notables
present include Boubacar Traoré, Tinariwen, Issa Bagayogo, Idrissa
Soumaoro, Habib Koité; among the missing are Salif Keita, Ali Farka
Toure, Toumani Diabate, Oumou Sangare, Rokia Traoré, Amadou et
Mariam, and many more. B

Putumayo Presents: South Pacific Islands (1997-2002
[2004], Putumayo World Music). Contemporary artists from New Zealand,
New Guinea, Melanesia, Micronesia, Rapa Nui [Easter Island], doesn't
sound like anything I can put my finger on -- not Hawaii, not Okinawa,
not Indonesia, not Madagascar; more like generic afropop, which means
it's probably been bounced around a few times; upbeat and effusive,
tourists probably like it. B

Rizwan-Muazzam Qawwali: Day of Colours (2004,
RealWorld). Pakistan's post-Nusrat new wave, actually two nephews
of the master, sounding rather old wave this time, which means
they're learning to trust their voices to reach Allah, as opposed
to using electronics to reach the dance floor. B+

The Rose & the Briar: Death , Love and Liberty in
the American Ballad (1927-2004 [2004], Columbia/Legacy).
Q: "What does the American ballad say about America?" A: "There
are many answers: for one, that America is a place of great stories
and storytellers." Doh!
B-

The Sound of Dub: Rare and Soundful Pearls From South Africa
in Dub (2005, Echo Beach). Echologists scour the world for
signs of intelligent dub, finding cosmopolitan grooves from natives
like the Kalahari Surfers and DJ Dope; beware that the connection
to reggae is weak, and that the connection to mbaqanga is weaker
still. B+

I've been neglecting the news over the last couple of weeks, but
unfortunately the news has not been neglecting us. Some items, mostly
from inattentive memory. In no particular order:

Terri Schiavo died, unremarkably. Then the Republicans who
had decided to turn her pitiful existence into a political issue
threw a tantrum. Tom Delay and John Cornyn used the occasion to
threaten "activist judges" with violence. (Given that the Schiavo
case took thirteen years "activism" doesn't seem to have much to
do with "active.") Even as Delay was eating his words, our own
alien Congressman Todd Tiahrt was reiterating them. These days
the definition of an "activist judge" seems to be any judge who
will stand up for the rule of law and the rights of citizens as
opposed to the whims and tirades of politicians.

Pope John Paul II also died. This was followed by a stream
of hoo-hah the likes of which we haven't seen since, well, Ronald
Reagan died. This pope was responsible for some promising policies,
like his suggestion that no resort to war is justifiable, as well
as a lot of awful policies. Prominent among the latter was his
sponsorship of a greater political role for the Roman Catholic
church. While it's true that the Papacy has never been aloof from
politics, the long term trend had been toward secularization and
the separation of church and state. The past 25 years have seen
a marked reversal of that trend, as clerics from most religions
have moved aggressively into the political sphere. This trend in
many ways dates from the accession of John Paul II and his use to
the U.S. as an anti-communist tool. This notably parallels the U.S.
promotion of Islamic jihadists in Afghanistan and elsewhere, also
justified as anti-communism. Some day we will come to recognize
anti-communism as worse than the monster it opposed. Thus far the
right wing has been able to pick and choose from Vatican positions.
But it's not inconceivable that this tool will also turn on its
thoughtless masters.

Kansas passed an amendment to the state constitution to
prohibit marriage or civil unions among homosexuals. It was a
silly piece of legislation which elicited much indifference, but
in the end the votes were an overwhelming 70%. How do they do
that? The media, like the Eagle, was generally opposed, but the
machine got out the votes anyway. I have no particular interest
in this issue, and would probably oppose gay marriage (although
favoring steps to mitigate discrimination against unmarried
couples, homosexual or otherwise) were it not for the right's
poisonous obsessions. Meanwhile, Connecticut is well on their
way to passing a civil unions bill, which suggests that there
is something to the red/blue states split.

The Kansas state education board is planning hearings on
plans to bring "intelligent design" into the science curriculum.
They had done this several years ago, embarrassed themselves and
the state, got voted out of office, but they're back again. Most
reasonable people are planning on boycotting the hearings, since
the board is stacked already. I'm tempted to write something on
my own experience: as a child I had always wanted to go into
science, but after my experience with an especially moronic 9th
grade biology teacher I never took another science class. If we
wish to have competent scientists we need to have an education
system which encourages students with the brains and inclination
to go into science, like me forty years ago. Cluttering up the
curriculum with nonsense doesn't help. We live in a world that's
becoming so complex and so dependent on its advanced technology
that we are increasingly dependent on scientists and engineers,
yet in Kansas the people in charge of education are engaged in
a mad pursuit of ignorance.

John Bolton and John Negroponte have been appearing before
the Senate to plead for confirmation to their new posts. Watching
them is like a preview of their eventual war crimes trials. The
latter will be more satisfying.

The "democracy denied in Iraq" counter has reached 76 days.
Minor progress has been made in naming a government, but the old
crony regime is still in place, and the power, to destroy if not
to build, is still monopolized by the U.S. occupation authorities.
But even when/if a government if formed based on January's flawed
elections and the rigged "transitional administrative law" there
will be no real progress toward democracy in Iraq until the U.S.
is told to leave. The question then will be whether the damage to
Iraqi civility that has been inflicted by the U.S. and many other
forces will permit reconstruction and healing. There is a lot of
evidence indicating that the damage already done will persist a
long time, and that the U.S. will not do anything to make things
better. I suppose it's possible that Bush's people did not intend
to leave Iraq in ruins in a state of perpetual civil war, but I'm
hard pressed to cite any instance where their policies haven't
tended toward that effect.

Reports are that Bush's "bipartisan" commission on "tax
reform" is about to unleash its recommendations -- shifting even
further to consumption taxes, away from investment taxes, the
usual shaft the poor/spare the rich strategy. Meanwhile, the
House is working on finishing off the estate tax. The problem
with repealing the estate tax is not that it favors the rich;
it's that estates perpetuate aristocracy, rewarding people who
have done nothing worthy of reward while making opportunities
scarcer for everyone else. The estate tax should not be repealed;
it should be made much stronger, at some level confiscatory. A
basic economic principle is that taxes depress economic activity,
so it is important that taxes be as painless as possible. Taxing
estates is as painless as it gets: the dead don't respond to tax
disincentives. As for their would-be heirs, they should work to
build their own estates, like everyone else.

Here's one from the Eagle: "The State Department decided to
stop publishing an annual report on international terrorism after the
government's top terrorism center concluded that there were more
terrorist attacks in 2004 than in any year since 1985, the first year
the publication covered." Also: "Last year, the number of incidents
in 2003 was undercounted, forcing a revision of the report."

Today's paper announced an article in tomorrow's paper on how
Kansas' own Senator Sam Brownback is contemplating a run for the U.S.
Presidency in 2008. It's hard to imagine a more ridiculous candidate,
but then it's hard to imagine that such a piece-of-work could have
been elected Senator either, even from Kansas, much less re-elected
by the same mysterious 70% margin as the marriage amendment.

That's all I remember, but then I wasn't paying attention. Sorry
about that.

My "smooth jazz" piece has been posted by the
Village
Voice. I grew up in the generation of rock critics who believed
that good rock records should be, and for the most part were, popular,
and that popular records (rock anyhow) must be doing something right,
otherwise they wouldn't be so popular. That belief got beat in the
mid-'70s, mangled beyond recognition (despite Prince and Madonna) in
the '80s, and degenerated to dark humor in the '90s (despite Nirvana,
I guess, or was that the point?).

Looking back, the argument's applicability to jazz waned in the
'40s and vanished utterly in the late '60s, such that by now several
generations of jazz artists have never imagined anything but their
own inevitable commercially marginal status. But every now and then
there would appear some jazz-like artists with substantial sales,
and I've always wondered whether they had something valid more than
their marketing edge. Six or seven years ago I tried to interest
the Voice in me taking a fresh look at Kenny G, then at something
of a peak. No go on that, and I never bothered pursuing the idea
on my own. But when I started getting records for my Jazz Consumer
Guides some smooth jazz showed up now and then, and I found myself
hoping that I might find something enjoyably funky -- perhaps an
analog to contemporary r&b comparable to soul jazz in the '60s
or disco instrumentalists like Bohannon in the '70s. Invariably
the records came up short, and when I did find something enjoyably
funky, like Jim Cifelli's Groove Station it didn't fit the
smooth jazz orthodoxy close enough to fly in those circles. But
I couldn't work these thoughts into CG reviews -- the best of the
records weren't compelling enough to make the grade, and the worst
were so inevitably bad they had no interest either.

So this piece came into being as an attempt to figure out just
how smooth jazz fits into the greater jazz universe. But two facts
dominate this question: 1) smooth jazz has an order-of-magnatude
sales advantage over mainstream jazz, and 2) smooth jazz has no
critical standing whatsoever among mainstream jazz critics. And
many things follow, especially from the sales equation. A typical
independent-label jazz album might sell 3k copies, with a ceiling
around 30k copies -- roughly speaking, the minimum sales figure
for a smooth jazz album, while smooth jazz hits can break 100k,
much more for Kenny G's bestsellers. This equation affects things
like the budget for the album, the promotion push, and above all
the distribution. Looking around Wichita, I noticed that WalMart
has about one foot of rack space for jazz; Circuit City has three
feet; Best Buy has nine feet. But all three have exactly the same
jazz mix: smooth jazz hits plus a few Dead Legends. (With its extra
space Best Buy has a few more mainstream artists on major labels
and more old catalog -- I've even seen a copy of Ascension,
which I'd love to hear on "Best Buy Radio" -- but nothing from
labels that don't feature smooth jazz product.) Those are the sort
of channels that serve most of America, and real jazz is locked
out of that level of distribution. This lockout creates a closed
circle, with a small coterie of labels, artists, producers, radio,
distributors locked into a narrowing niche.

I have a lot more research I could present, but I haven't sorted
it out very thoroughly. What I will add here are capsule reviews of
the smooth jazz albums (plus a couple of ringers) I've heard over
the past year. There's more that I haven't heard -- Norman Brown,
Paul Brown, Richard Elliott, Dave Koz, Chuck Loeb, Joe Sample, Soul
Ballet, Wayman Tisdale, Peter White, those are all names I noted.
Also missing are the singers, who are in a slightly different class --
actually, one with more upside sales potential. And I've skipped a
wide range of crossover moves that haven't intersected with smooth
jazz, such as jazztronica, nu soul, and whatever it is that Dune
Records is up to in London. But this should give you an idea, and
none of it's likely to show up in the broad sweep of Jazz Consumer
Guide.

Music: Initial count 10496 [10463] rated (+33), 871 [880] unrated (-9).
Jazz CG and Recycled Goods both posted last week. I have enough new jazz
records rated to finish a new Jazz CG, plus most of another RG written
up, so it would be cool to get them straightened out this week -- if not
fully written.

Atmosphere: Seven's Travels (2003, Rhymesayers/Epitaph).
The music seems more rushed than before -- the beats harder, the rhymes
crammed together, maybe even blue-shifted. B+

The Jeff Beck Group: Beck-Ola (1969 [2000], Epic).
I had a copy of the LP way back when. Never rated it, having had no
recollection of what it sounded like. Maybe I never played it? By
the time this came out Beck's fellow ex-Yardbirds had moved on to
Cream and Led Zeppelin, with Derek & the Dominos just a year
off. Singer sounds like Rod Stewart, who had a better band to sing
for at the time. Liner notes advise: "So sit back and listen and
try and decide if you can find a small place in your heads for it."
Maybe I did play it, but couldn't find a place small enough. C+

Anthony Braxton: Dortmund (Quartet) 1976 (1976,
Hat Art). Four pieces with diagrammatic titles, performed live by
a rather extraordinary quartet, with trombonist George Lewis joining
Braxton up front, with Dave Holland and Barry Altschul in the back.
Braxton plays flute and clarinet as well as three weights of sax
(soprano, alto, contrabass), which gives him a wide range of looks.
Impressive work all around. A-

David Bromberg: My Own House / You Should See the Rest of
the Band (1978-79 [1999], Fantasy). Combines two albums, the
first more down home, the second juiced up a bit, including Garth
Hudson on organ and Peter Ecklund on trumpet. Both feature medleys.
Fairly classic Americana, nicely done. B+

David Bromberg: Wanted Dead or Alive (1974,
Columbia). Singer-songwriter with an archivist bent: about half
the songs are originals, most of the rest oldies, one from Dylan,
who at a comparable age/career-stage looked a bit like Bromberg
looks on the back cover -- maybe a little less scruffy and a
little less nerdy. At this stage (third album) he was likely
viewed, at least by Columbia, as another Dylan, but instead of
making the transition to rock 'n' roll he moved to Fantasy and
reverted even further into folkiness. This one seems neither
here nor there. B

Guus Janssen and His Orchestra: Dancing Series
(1988, Geestgronden). A big band led by the Dutch pianist, with
many of the usual suspects on line. Which means it can achieve
a comic, almost circus-like atmosphere, or it can break down into
squalls of sound. The piece called "Jojo Jive" is a fine example
of the former, shuffling along with occasional dissonance. B+

Louis Prima: Say It With a Slap (1947-49 [1999],
Buddha). Transitional, it says in the booklet, which means one foot
in New Orleans, the other groping for Las Vegas. Keely Smith shows
up for the last song, replacing the equally fine Cathy Allen. His
own vocals are as thin and pathetic as ever -- just how corny he
can get is shown by his take on a rare standard, "All of Me." The
big band is thick but swings easily, and Prima's trumpet is always
a treat. B+

Paul Rutherford: The Gentle Harm of the Bourgeoisie
(1974, Emanem). I can't unreservedly recommend an album of solo
trombone, but I find this one fascinating. He works mostly in
short discrete notes, often played fast, but without the sort of
smears that often come with the instrument. The tone is ruddy,
as opposed to something that might be mistaken for J.J. Johnson,
so much of this has a staccato ring to it, or do I mean static?
Fascinating, nonetheless. B+

US3: Hand on the Torch (1993, Blue Note).
Mild-mannered raps, layered over jazz with samples from Art Blakey,
Donald Byrd, Bobby Hutcherson, etc., plus some new jazz by Steve
Williamson. Judging from the back liner it looks like a venture
capital investment by Blue Note. Flows OK, but doesn't register
very strongly. B

My Recycled Goods reissues/world music column has been posted by
Static
Multimedia. This is the 18th more/less monthly column I've done
for Static, dating back to Feb. 2003. I keep them archived on my
website, and keep an
artist index there.
I've covered 638 albums there. I started to install the reviews at
Terminal Zone, but haven't
gotten very far. There they can be combined with the Jazz Consumer
Guide reviews and the hundreds of notebook reviews (at least the
ones that are fit to keep). The big difference between Recycled Goods
and Jazz Consumer Guide is that I have unlimited space with RG, so I
can fit in an introduction and include pretty much everything I get,
whereas JCG is very compressed due to the limited allotment of space.
This shows up not only in how many records get included but also in
how many words I write per record. With JCG I have to weigh every
word like it's a zero-sum game: an extra word here means one less
word somewhere else. It's much harder to write, but also better
written. (Much of the credit there has to go to Robert Christgau's
editing -- it's tough to slip anything sloppy past him. Michael
Tatum's editing of RG is immensely helpful as well, but he's not
nearly so picky.)

Another difference is that I make a much more serious effort to
make JCG comprehensive. I try to hear all the new jazz worth hearing
for JCG, and the publicists are usually obliging. On the other hand,
reissues are such a huge domain that I can only hope to poke around
selectively, and I usually have so much backlog that I'm less likely
to go out of my way to track things down. Moreover, some publicists
figure that anyone can write for a webzine, so Static has less pull
than the Voice does, even though I'm much more likely to actually
publish something about an RG candidate than a JCG candidate. All
this makes RG more arbitrary. When I look through the reissues
sections of Mojo, Blender, Rolling Stone, most of what shows up
there never makes it to my door. On the other hand, I get a lot
of jazz, and I get more from Sony/Legacy and Shout! Factory than
I ask for -- I guess there wasn't a lot of requests for that Jim
Nabors worst-of -- so they show up disproportionately. On the other
hand, UMG's reissues division has clammed up, BMG's difficult, and
WEA's impenetrable. Reissues is a segment that is overwhelmingly
dominated by majors -- they accumulate catalogs, and make good
money in their recycling. There's some interesting stuff out on
the fringes, and I wish I had more time to track it down. But for
now I cover what I can, which is still quite a bit.

My fourth Village Voice
Jazz
Consumer Guide column appeared today. The first column appeared in
July, 2004, followed by one in September, then another in January, 2005.
I haven't been working to a schedule here -- early speculation on how
frequently the column would run ranged from three to six times a year --
but it's actually run almost like clockwork every three months. This is
something of a surprise to me, since what I notice day-to-day are the
delays -- how long it takes to assemble, to edit, to schedule space and
lay out. Each time I write more than fits, then haggle over where to cut,
then think I have the next one half done already, expecting to finally
pick up the pace. Early on I was short for material, but these days I
have so much material that's so remarkable that I find myself cutting
lots of genuinely good records realizing that I'm never going to find
space for them, even if I do somehow manage to pick up the pace.

The Jazz Consumer Guide is the front end of a system for sorting
as much new jazz as I can get my hands on and find time to make sense
of. Behind it I have a series of files that I use to keep track of
everything I get, and more files that try to list what else is out
there. (It's impossible to know what you don't know, but there are
ways to measure what you don't know, and less perfectly to assess
how much your ignorance detracts from your knowledge.) One shift
evident in this column (and it's probably exaggerated) is that I'm
doing a more effective job of seeking out records as opposed to
just responding to what shows up in the mail. The breakdown this
time is 8 to 4, the 8 including two records I bought and 4 that
I got by approaching the artists (3 self-labelled), while only
one of the 4 (Potter) was likely to have shown up in most working
critics' mail. (The Björkenheim/Ligeti was actually a side-effect
of trying to track down Juhani Aaltonen's records, about which
you'll hear more next time.) Branch Rickey's famous maxim is that
luck is the residue of design. It may be lucky to find such great
records in such out-of-the-way places, but there's a lot of logic
and organization behind the search, and it seems to be paying off.

My system puts a ridiculous amount of emphasis on grades. This
is wrong in that it suggests that there is a measurable standard
against which the records are evaluated. Of course, there is no
such standard. The closest simple grading system I can come up
with would be to measure two factors: how expertly do you fulfill
my expectations for a type of music, and how surprising is the
result. In other words, competency and invention. But two such
factors are incommensurable, often even contradictory. Quantify
the two and multiply them and the answers is bound to be nonsense.
Yet that's more or less what grading does. Still, I do it. I see
two advantages in it: one is that it helps in managing quantities
of data; the other is that it makes my writing more economical.
With the grade at the end you know whether I like the record or
not, and approximately how much -- no need to tune adjectives.
And the data is large: I get about 400 jazz albums a year, and
the grades map those 400 into a context provided by over 10,000
grades in my album database.

The grading system I use is roughly based on what Robert
Christgau has done in his Consumer Guides, but I'll give you
my definitions here. First, a B record is a good one:
competent, skilled, pleasing, unremarkable. I could play B
records all day long and never complain, but presumably I'd
wind up wondering why I bothered. I've mostly tuned my ears
to not notice B records. Anything below B has
somehow managed to annoy or offend me. I rarely go very far
down the grade list, and don't claim much precision there --
once a record dips below the line of tolerance I lose interest
in it. In general, a C+ record is probably a competent
piece of hackwork, while a C- record is likely to be a
much less competent atrocity. Lower grades usually indicate
pain, as opposed to mere annoyance.

A B+ is a consistently enjoyable album or one with
remarkable features that I may not fully appreciate or value.
I've found many of my favorite albums in Christgau's B+;
you will likely find treasures in mine. In practice, the upper
third are records I enjoy a lot; the bottom third include records
that I admire more than I like, but they all have much to recommend.
It's just that the A- records have more -- sometimes much
more. Higher grades are rare -- in the database they are usually
records that have stood the test of time, that exemplify a unique
artistic vision, but sometimes they just make me deliriously happy
from beginning to end. I'd like to think that A and A+
records are universal -- that even someone who doesn't think they
like avant-garde jazz, for instance, could really get into records
like Dave Holland's Conference for the Birds or Amalgam's
Prayer for Peace.

Based on what I get, I'd have to say that the distribution for
current jazz records is a bit above normal -- the mean record is
somewhere in the low B+ range. My own results skew this way
mostly because I seek out good records while bypassing not so good
ones, but if I did get everything, and managed miraculously to grade
it all, the mean should drop into the mid B range, but the
distribution wouldn't be normal -- it would be skewed high, more
B+ than B-/C+, maybe more A- than
C/C-. Most of the reasons for this are systemic --
they apply to any kind of music, where good musicians (however you
define that, and there's a wide range of opinion) simply get more
opportunities to record than bad musicians, where good records get
promoted more than bad ones, etc. But I will mention two reasons
that are relatively specific to jazz. One is that it's a relatively
homogeneous form of music -- mostly instrumental, mostly out of a
specific historical tradition, with common conventions. The other
is that jazz is relatively untouched by commercial pressures --
and things that go with money, like production budgets. Proof of
these points can be gleaned by looking at the exceptions: vocal
jazz grades much more variably than instrumental, while the most
commercial jazz variants skew quite a bit down. (The mean for
"smooth jazz," in my rather limited experience, is close to the
B-/C+ border, and I'm rather open-minded on the
subject.)

I think that the four Jazz Consumer Guides to date have shown
progressive grasp of the domain, sharpening of my sort skills,
and possibly a little tighter writing. I expect the next year to
progress similarly -- there's still a lot out there that I don't
know about. It's also made me more aware of my preferences and
prejudices: love tenor sax, especially in small groups; don't
like multiple overlapping horn lines, either in small groups or
big bands; don't have much to say about piano trios or solo;
don't like strings or flutes, especially when they remind me
of classical or new age; like world fusion exotica, but often
find myself dumbfounded by latin; give singers a tough time;
rarely think avant-garde solos and duos pay off; find smooth
jazz too formulaic, although synth beats are fine. I'm getting
better at following avant-garde, free, creative, whatever you
call it, although I still suspect that a lot of the experiments
are half-assed and don't work. I'm having trouble finding as
much traditional jazz as I'd like. But there are exceptions to
all of this, and in the end the exceptions are more interesting
than the rules.

Time to clean up the system again. I keep a "done" file with
notes for everything that I've rated but haven't used, and clean
that out on each column publication, putting the notes into the
notebook. The "done" file started with 279 records, of which 31
appeared in the Jazz Consumer Guide. I've culled the following
albums, listed in rank order (best to worst). These are records
I've heard, rated, noted, and decided not to include in future
Jazz Consumer Guides. There are various reasons for this: some
were written about by other Village Voice writers and I don't
have much to add to their comments; some I wrote about in my
Recycled Goods reissue column; some are of marginal interest
to jazz; a lot are B+ albums that lose out in the space
crunch -- I listed 15 Honorable Mentions this time, leaving
157 B+ candidates, about ten columns worth; almost
everything B rated; some lower rated records I don't
feel like picking on for one reason or another. Total cull
is 108 records, leaving 152 rated/107 unrated. From the latter,
plus whatever shows up in the meantime, I'll write up 30 or so
records next time.

Jazz Consumer Guide (4) came out today. The following are the notes
for the covered records from the "done" file (279 records before I
started this housecleaning).

Amalgam: Prayer for Peace (1969 [2002], FMR).
The authors of The Penguin Guide to Jazz have a soft spot for
the English avant-garde of their youth. Their highest rating is a
crown, which they reserve for a few personal favorites: 74 in the
7th edition, out of more than 13,000 records surveyed. Yet they give
crowns to six English jazz albums from 1968-72 -- a famous one by
John McLaughlin and five others unlikely to be known by anyone who
hasn't carefully studied their Guide. They are interesting
records -- that's why the Guide is so essential -- but this
one stands out. The sound has amazing presence -- the bass literally
hugging you, while the drums ping off your bones and Trevor Watts'
alto sax cuts right through you. When he shifts from the dirge-like
intro to full metal screech you can feel the earth move, but the
record never flies out of control and never loses its touch or its
humanity. A classic, but who knew?
A

Patricia Barber: A Fortnight in Paris (2004, Blue Note).
Seems short for a fortnight, or perhaps that just means she leaves us
wanting more. In an age when jazz has become the last refuge for the
interpretive singer, she writes, and on "Crash" leads an instrumental
built around her power piano. Moreover, the songs are worth reading --
"Whiteworld" the bright, nasty face of imperialism. Still, she does
throw in a few covers -- "Laura" is a languid ballad which frames Neal
Alger's guitar solo; "Norwegian Wood" is a starkly lovely reading;
"Call Me" is a gentle closer. I'm impressed by each of these, yet
not quite swept away.
B+

Gorka Benitez: Sólo la Verdad Es Sexy (2003 [2004],
Fresh Sound).
At two discs this seems at first a bit excessive, but the discs aren't
packed (first runs 41:39, second 41:22) -- the music wouldn't fit on
one disc, but it would come close. The music is mostly played at ballad
speed, with a quiet dignity triumphing where the quiet storm falls off.
B+

Raoul Björkenheim/Lukas Ligeti: Shadowglow
(2003, TUM).
Improvised guitar and drums, sometimes prepared, sometimes
something else (tri-sonic steel guitar? electric viola da gamba?
Chinese tam-tam?). Each piece is built around a trick, perhaps
an exotic rhythm Ligeti picked up on his African travels. But
Björkenheim doesn't just tease odd sounds from his axes: he
knows his power chords, and can pound out lines with a deeply
metallic tone.
A-

Jim Black: Habyor (2004, Winter & Winter).
Post-fusion, or maybe creative rock? Whereas fusion dumbed down jazz
and tried to compensate with energy or at least a little funk, this
starts from the guitar dominance of alt-indie-whatever, then skews
it, stretches it into free time, turns it into harsh, unpolished
texture. Black calls his band Alasnoaxis, and this is their third
album together. The presence of Chris Speed on tenor sax/clarinet,
as well as the drummer's leadership, suggests a parallel with John
Hollenbeck's Claudia Quintet, but whereas the latter is light and
beat-centered, this one is dense and tense. In both cases Speed
blends in rather than stands out, an interesting chameleon act.
B+

Anthony Braxton: 23 Standards (Quartet) 2003
(2003 [2004], Leo, 4CD).
Four CDs is overkill for others but with Braxton it's just one of the
rituals of getting acquainted. His catalog is so huge that keeping up
is all but impossible. One thing that you can lose track of with his
compositions is what an extraordinary musician he is, but with standards
you get a handle to hear him by and he gets proven melodies to exploit.
On his recently re-released *Charlie Parker Project 1993* (Hatology)
the point seems to be to leave Bird in his dust, but here he takes
everything at a nice leisurely pace: the pieces average over ten
minutes, and leave ample time for guitarist Kevin O'Neil and a rhythm
section that, well, swings.
A-

Claudia Quintet: I, Claudia (2004, Cuneiform).
John Hollenbeck's postjazz/postrock band sounds more like post-Partch;
sans exotic instruments and microtones, but he finds other ways to
drive toward abstraction. The pieces are all rhythm and tone: the
former from drums and vibes, the latter from accordion and clarinet,
all lightly colored instruments of marginal distinction. The rhythm
doesn't swing, but it doesn't aspire to minimalist repetition either.
Most pieces start simple and build, the likely fault being that he
starts too simple and builds too slowly. (Perhaps that works live,
where there is more palpable anticipation; listening to the record
you're more likely to forget what you're doing and wander off.) One
exception is "Misty Hymen," which gets down to business quick -- in
part because Chris Speed switches to the deeper and more distinctive
tenor saxophone.
A-

Miles Davis: Birdland 1951 (1951 [2004], Blue Note).
Nobody in jazz history has ever shown greater flair for hanging out
with the right crowd than Miles Davis. He stumbled out of Julliard
into Charlie Parker's band just in time to play (or not play) "Ko Ko";
was nominal leader of the Gil Evans-Gerry Mulligan-Lee Konitz Birth
of the Cool sessions; finally formed a stable quintet with John
Coltrane in the front line; and, well, you know the rest. The bands
behind these 1951 airshots are comparably infamous: one with Sonny
Rollins (age 21 at the time), J.J. Johnson, Kenny Drew, Tommy Potter,
and Art Blakey (32); the other with Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis, Big Nick
Nicholas, Billy Taylor, Charles Mingus, and Blakey again. However,
it's hard to argue that any of these greats (subtract Potter and
Nicholas from the list) were great yet. (Blakey's first recordings
under his own name came in 1954, although by 1951 he was already
at the head of the very short list of competent bebop drummers,
along with Max Roach and Kenny Clarke.) The sets here come from
airshots, and sound quality is dubious -- although no worse than
dozens of in-print Charlie Parker sets. Musically there's nothing
here but breakneck bebop. The trumpeter seems flashy enough, the
trombone is first rate, and I like the tenor sax on the last set
(without knowing whether it's Davis or Nicholas). The theory seems
to be nothing but speed -- certainly nothing like ideas. I still
don't trust Parker when he plays like that, so I don't see much
point here. Historians might beg to dispute.
B-

E.S.T.: Seven Days of Falling (2003 [2004], 215 Records,
CD+DVD).
That would be the Esbjörn Svensson Trio, under the leadership of the
Swedish pianist. They are in many ways the complement to the Bad Plus,
but their sense of exploitable rock references runs more to Radiohead
than to Nirvana -- although the piano-heavy Coldplay may be closer to
the target. Whether they are racing through a riff piece or regarding
a gentle snowfall, the textural elements they use fit neatly into a
rock matrix.
B+

Dennis Gonzalez Inspiration Band: Nile River Suite
(2003 [2004], Daagnim).
Gonzalez acts locally but thinks globally. He teaches mariachi
at a high school in Dallas. He moonlights making avant-jazz
records with no discernible folk elements other than a core
belief in the magic of the universe. His theme here is the
ancient river of civilization: the Nile runs through New York,
the Nile runs through my heart, the Nile runs through us all.
Featured is ex-Ayler bassist Henry Grimes, rediscovered after
a three decade absence, and surprisingly fit as his fiddle.
Also inspiring are Sabir Mateen and Roy Campbell.
A-

Henry Grimes Trio: Live at the Kerava Jazz Festival
(2004 [2005], Ayler).
With Revenant's big, well-publicized box dominating the jazz press,
one might call 2004 the Year of Albert Ayler. The box confirmed a
growing consensus recognition of Ayler's importance, a long path
with many signposts, including David Murray's early composition,
"Flowers for Albert" and the naming of Jan Ström's Swedish record
label. One such auspicious moment occurred in 2002 when Ayler's
long-lost bassist Henry Grimes reappeared, Rip Van Winkle-like,
after having vanished from the scene in the late '60s. Grimes has
worked regularly since his return, and this is touted as the first
album in his name since his 1965 Trio record on ESP with Perry
Robinson (clarinet) and Tom Price (drums). The new one is another
"Henry Grimes Trio" -- recorded at the Kerava Jazz Festival in
Finland, with David Murray and Hamid Drake. This particular
setting honors Grimes but doesn't do him many favors: he gets
ample solo space, but the live recording isn't all that sharp.
Even Murray's bass clarinet doesn't come through very clearly,
but his tenor sax is rip-roaring, as usual. So without the back
story, this is one more serving of Murray's off-the-cuff magic.
More welcome than ever, since he's gone all conceptual on his
studio albums.
B+

Scott Hamilton: Live in London (2002 [2003], Concord).
Has there ever been anyone who makes playing the tenor sax sound easier
than Hamilton? The hard swingers like "The Squirrel" (Tadd Dameron via
Wardell Gray) and "The Goof and I" (Al Cohn) effortless, and eases into
ballads like "When I Fall in Love" without belaboring his tone. Obvious
melodies like "Easter Parade" and "When You Wish Upon a Star" are ear
candy. The only original is from bassist Dave Green, who offers a nod
to Oscar Pettiford and Lucky Thompson, and Hamilton's made a whole
career out of Thompson.
B+

Fred Hersch: Leaves of Grass (2005, Palmetto).
I don't know what it is about composers that drives them to write music
to score the words of their favorite poets, but words not written as
songs almost never find a second life there. They sound stilted, losing
their cadence as speech while tripping up the music. This time the
words come from Walt Whitman, so they carry an additional burden in
that they mean nothing to me, or perhaps a bit less in that I learned
to dislike Whitman back in the days of my grade school miseducation,
and have found all subsequent references to him to be suspicious. The
problem here is not the music, which is composerly but interesting
when it gets a chance to breathe. Just a bad idea from the start.
B-

Frank Hewitt: We Loved You (2001 [2004], Smalls).
Hewitt was one of countless guys who spent their lives playing in
obscure dives, never lucking or bulling his way into the spotlight.
For nine years up to his death in 2002 he worked and sometimes
lived at Smalls, an after-hours club in NYC, garnering fans like
Luke Kaven, who founded this label to right the wrong that Hewitt
had never released a record. It's easy enough to guess why the
industry passed: their ideal pianist is a young guy with a distinct
edge -- a Brad Mehldau or a Jason Moran. Hewitt sounds warm and
comfy, like someone you'd cast for atmosphere before cutting back
to the plot, but he doesn't get corny or sentimental.
A-

Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey: Walking With Giants (2004, Hyena).
A radically different twist on the usual piano trio, in that Reed Mathis
doesn't just play bass, and doesn't just bring up the rear. He also plays
cello, sitar, 12 string guitar, and something called "octave pedal-induced
bass." The latter produces a front-line sound, like a synthesized electric
viola, something in that range. It's the most distinctive sound on the
album, letting the piano and drums just crunch in the background. When
they do go conventional, they work in thick slabs of sound, somewhat like
the Bad Plus but less flashy.
B+

Jewels & Binoculars: Floater (2003 [2004], Ramboy).
A-

Jessica Jones Quartet: Nod (2003 [2004], New Artists).
Pretty good record. I don't know what the division of labor is between
the two Joneses: both Tony and Jessica play tenor sax, but Jessica
gets top billing. I gather that they are married, and have two kids,
a 21-year-old daughter who sings "These Foolish Things" (amateur hour
here, with Jessica playing piano) and an 11-year-old son who takes a
silly/funny turn on Joseph Jarman's "Happiness Is." Jarman plays on
two cuts; they strike me as the weak spots, but Jones is probably
honored. Connie Crothers also appears on piano on two cuts, and she
earns her keep, as does Mark Taylor on French horn. Jones has worked
with Don Cherry, whose spirit smiles on this record. These are the
real family values.
B+

Rudresh Mahanthappa: Mother Tongue (2004, Pi).
One is tempted to conclude that the mother tongue is Coltrane, ably
assisted by Vijay Iyer in the key of Tyner.
B+

Branford Marsalis Quartet: Eternal (2003 [2004], Marsalis
Music/Rounder).
Branford's personal meditation record. Starts slow and pretty, then slows
down, then slows down again. Most of the pieces are by the band, so it
doesn't really qualify as a "ballad book." Branford isn't really a ballad
guy anyway. But look at the album covers. The front is a waterfall without
color; the latter shows Branford on the lonely end of a bench in a garden,
looking bored out of his fucking skull. I guess he's not really much of
a meditation guy either.
B-

Nils Petter Molvaer: Live: Steamer (2002 [2004], Sula).
With his samples and loops, not to mention DJ Strangefruit's vinyl,
live Molvaer differs little from studio. Even on trumpet he owes less
to Miles Davis than to Jon Hassell, but whereas Hassell dreamed of
the far east, Molvaer connects most intimately to his machines --
which keeps Molvaer more intimately connected to reality. Even though
Davis played little on his "electronic period" records, he stood on
his own: the band played for him, and he responded, whereas Molvaer
(like Hassell) blends into the band, adding distinctive color to a
process that is otherwise largely synthetic. The marginal difference
between this and his last three albums (Khmer, Solid Ether,
NP3) is that this one is more ambient -- an unseemly sag in
the middle -- but that isn't so bad either.
B+

Mount Analog: New Skin (2004, Film Guerrero).
A Tucker Martine production, like Mylab, but more primitive, less
melodic, more ambient. Many of the usual collaborators show up,
but they are used sparingly: the only one who makes much impression
is Eyvind Kang (viola). The early part goes fast without evoking
much notice. A piece called "Gospel Melodica" is rather nice.
B-

Mylab (2004, Terminus).
If a jazz auteur can play orchestra, why not computer? Producer
Tucker Martine and keyb man Wayne Horvitz started with samples
of old folk melodies, then built up these musical tableaux by
adding whatever struck their fancy -- banjo and viola, sax and
flugelhorn, church organ and electro blips, but mostly rhythm,
supplementing Martine's beats with Bobby Previte's drums.
A-

Evan Parker: The Snake Decides (1986 [2003], Psi).
Four pieces of solo soprano saxophone, unfurled as long lines of
circular breathing -- 19:56 for the title cut, 6:01 for the finale.
The sound is constantly modulated, creating a rhythm and a vast
range of amazing harmonics. The Penguin Guide gave this a crown
as much for its recording quality as for the performance, which
is as riveting but limited as soprano saxophone gets.
B+

The Flip Phillips Quartet: Live at the Beowulf
(1977-78 [2004], Arbors, 2CD).
A bargain: two discs for the price of one. The back cover adds: "A
Double CD -- Arbors Historical Series, Volume 5." Two quartets
differing only on bass, recorded when Phillips was in his young
sixties, well before he died at 86 in 2001. First disc kicks off
swinging like you haven't heard in ages; second disc takes a pair
of ballads before sliding back in gear. They don't make 'em like
they used to. One reason is that now all the JATP jousters have
passed on.
B+

Chris Potter Quartet: Lift: Live at the Village Vanguard
(2002 [2004], Sunnyside).
Potter's studio albums have always struck me as too slick and too
complex. Perhaps too conservative, too. But put him in a club with
an all-name quartet: the songs stretch, the solos spread, rough spots
break up the pace and chops overcome the damage. This may be why so
many jazz fans swear it's not jazz unless it's invented on the fly.
But reified, it's one Potter album that isn't slick or complex.
A-

Steve Reid: Rhythmatism (1976 [2004], Universal Sound).
A drummer, not to be confused with the Rippingtons' drummer, Reid
did studio work for Martha & the Vandellas, James Brown, and Fela
Kuti before drifting into avant-garde obscurity, mostly working
with Charles Tyler. He recorded four albums in the late '70s on
his own label. His rhythm here is irresistibly snappy, but the
main reason for noticing is a wild and wooly Arthur Blythe, in
peak form shortly before his major label debut.
A-

Lisa Sokolov: Presence (2002 [2004], Laughing Horse).
She impresses me as the most extreme jazz vocalist to have emerged since
Sheila Jordan and/or Betty Carter. She doesn't make the usual effort to
make her voice work like an instrument; she'd rather work in a domain
where only voice can reach. The sequence of "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning"
(where her voice breaks out like sunshine only more startling), "You Do
Something to Me" (that "voodoo that you do so well"), and "Chain of Fools"
("ch-ch-chain" torqued up as in "ch-ch-chainsaw massacre") is astonishing.
Nonetheless I find this too extreme for me; at least too extreme to settle
down on. The other covers, like "And When I Die" and "Home on the Range"
and Jacques Brel's "Sons Of," are also inspired. The originals are filler.
She's so dramatic, so extreme, that she's scary. But I'm not sure that
I've ever heard a more commanding performance than her "Oh, What a
Beautiful Morning."
A-

Triage: American Mythology (2004, Okka Disk).
A Vandermark Five spinoff, with Rempis and Daisy plus Jason Ajemian on
bass. More similar to the V5 than Rempis' own album; more similar still
to V5 spinoffs like Spaceways Inc. Several pieces are built around Daisy's
drumwork, which Rempis complements smartly. More are powered through by
Rempis on sax, including some of the most exhilarating out play I've
heard this year. Possible Pick Hit.
A

Greg Wall: Later Prophets (2004, Tzadik)
This is based on the prophetic visions of Ezekiel, starting not just with
the story but also with traditional Jewish music associated with the
story. Not knowing the story, let alone growing up with the music, I'm
not able to make what may be obvious connections, but I will say that
I sensed the presence of a narrative when the guitar started to sound
like Pink Floyd. Wall mostly plays tenor sax, and gets a thick, robust
tone out of it. He also plays some clarinet, which comes in handy in
one section that fits as klezmer. Impressive record.
B+

Yeah No: Swell Henry (2003 [2004], Squealer).
This is the flip-side of the Claudia Quintet, with Chris Speed's
reeds, Cuong Vu's trumpet, and accordion or keyboards or "Speak
& Spell" working back from the textures instead of forward from
the rhythms.
B+

Jacob Young: Evening Falls (ECM).
Young plays guitar. He isn't especially distinctive here, but he wrote
all the pieces, and fills in admirably. The reasons he doesn't have to
dominate the album are Mathias Eick (trumpet) and Vidar Johansen (bass
clarinet). This is a lovely atmospheric thing.
B+

This is also a good time to clean out the "done" file of various
entries which, for one reason or another, aren't real prospects for
future Jazz Consumer Guides. For the most part, these records are
victims of the numbers crunch. As of this point, my graded backlog
is as follows: A: 1; A-: 37; B+: 157; B: 32; B-: 26; C+: 4; C: 4.
In this column I listed 12 A/A-, 15 HM, 5 Duds. This means that if
I tried to dump out two more columns just to flush my backlog, I'd
still be left with 13 A/A- and 112 B+. The current unrated backlog
is 108, and more stuff is coming down the pike. So from a practical
standpoint, even though I'd like to make all B+ records HM I'll never
be able to do that. Hence I need to clear them out of the way to get
down to things with a realistic chance. (Previous culls cut most of
the B albums off the list. The actual distribution of what I receive
is skewed above a normal B-centered distribution, but not so much as
the numbers above indicate.)

Aside from grades, other reasons for cuts here are: reissues that
I've adequately covered in Recycled Goods, releases that are dated
(especially from well-publicized labels), releases in styles of marginal
jazz interest. In the latter regard I'll go ahead and cull a bunch of
smooth jazz here, since I have a separate essay on smooth jazz coming
out in the Voice soon that covers most of what ought to be covered
there. It's always possible that something cut here will creep back
in later -- as happened this time with the Maria Schneider record.

Mindi Abair: Come As You Are (2004, GRP).
Young blonde saxtress, she lacks the bright tone of most smooth alto
saxes, nor does she go in for showy dynamics. Sings three songs with a
thin, whispery voice that matches her sax. But two pieces stand out:
"New Shoes" has an old-fashioned west coast horn arrangement for
propulsion, and "Cyan" has a little bite to it.
B-

Gerald Albright: Kickin' It Up (2004, GRP).
Saxophonist, mostly alto, can play some. I heard a story about him
going off on a solo which had to be cut because it was disruptive.
So credit him with some chops, and also some taste: the vocal here,
by a guest I don't recognize, is a plus, and the non-funky closer,
"If You Don't Know Me By Now," is done tastefully. His funk licks
are perfunctory, and the usual keyb/synth/groove bottom is workable
but not exceptional.
B

Kenny Barron Quintet: Images (2003 [2004], Sunnyside).
One of the world's great pianists, but mostly in the context of someone
else leading -- a saxophonist like Stan Getz, or on his own albums a
commanding rhythmic force, like Mino Cinelu on Swamp Sally or
Joe Locke on But Beautiful. But this quintet is a trio augmented
as weakly as possible, with flute and vibes. It also seems to hurt that
the four players surrounding Barron are so young. They mostly defer,
lagging behind the piano especially on Barron's more plodding pieces.
The exceptions show some promise: Anne Drummond's flute properly leads
"Song for Abdullah," where Barron fills in expertly, and Stefon Harris
goes to town on Wayne Shorter's "Footprints," as you'd expect him to.
Barron's solos are admirable, as always.
B-

BeatleJazz: With a Little Help From Our Friends
(2005, Lightyear).
This is the fourth album of mostly Beatles songs (plus two from John
Lennon's post-Beatles songbook and the Goffin-King "Chains" -- the
connection there slips my mind) by the duo of drummer Brian Melvin
and pianist David Kikoski, plus various bass players, and this time
guest shots by John Scofield, Mike Stern, and the Notorious Brecker
Brothers. Sounds like a terrible idea to me, but in fact it's done
very tastefully. One might compare this with Jewels and Binoculars
(the Dylan songbook group led by Michael Moore and Lindsay Horner),
but the differences are obvious: the songs are instantly recognizable,
only in part because they're done more straightforwardly; also the
lack of a consistent horn voice leaves them without an obvious focal
point. Maybe the intention is to extend the songs rhythmically around
Melvin's drums and tabla. But maybe that's too subtle a take on music
that's already taken much too seriously.
B

Marcus Belgrave: Gemini (1974 [2004], Universal Sound).
Born in Chester PA, Belgrave moved to Detroit when he was 17 and became
a local legend and, these days, an elder statesman of the Detroit jazz
scene without ever really breaking out of town. This early album was
cut with musicians centered around Phil Ranelin and his Tribe, such
as Wendell Harrison (tenor sax), along with Detroit drummer Roy Brooks.
They work in what for lack of a better word we'll call a left-wing hard
bop idiom: nothing here sounds like they're into pushing boundaries,
but they certainly listen to cats who do, even though they're more into
togetherness. So this is tight and closely held together. Belgrave's
trumpet is delightful, but the largish group limits his focus. Good
record, but not sharp enough to be a great one.
B+

Paul Bley: Nothing to Declare (2004, Justin Time).
Bley's done a lot of solo piano over the years. Never a guy to just
hit a note and leave nine fingers idle, there are lots of minor
trills and embellishments here, but this isn't anywhere near as
flashy as he can get. Four long pieces (one 8:35, the others in
the 14:15-18:39 range), all moderately paced. The title piece is
the most satisfying piece; "Blues Waltz" the least, perhaps an
idea too conflicted from the start. Nothing to get excited about.
Nothing to regret.
B+

Brian Bromberg: Choices (2004, A440).
Plays electric bass, including a piccolo bass tuned to sound like a
guitar. Like most bassists, he specializes in funk lines although he
can also conjure up chiming and ringing sounds, distinguishing him a
bit from the crowd. Keyboardists vary, but Gary Meek is his sax guy,
playing more tenor than soprano. Goes South African at the end.
B

Brooklyn Sax Quartet: Far Side of Here (2005, Omnitone).
I've never met a sax quartet I've really liked. Without the addition of
some contrasting instruments the four horns sound thin together. Moreover,
the intent to play together -- to harmonize the various weights -- takes
much of the expressiveness away from the sax voice. This one is more/less
as good as the rest. David Bindman and Fred Ho are the leaders, John
O'Gallagher plays soprano, and the alto slot is either Sam Furnace or
Rudresh Hamanthappa. All of these guys are good players; their heads
are sharp, their hearts are in the right place. The titles intrigue me.
But I can't help it -- I feel like burying the record.
B

André Bush: Start From Silence (2005, Old Culture).
Not bad, by any means, but I find that the galloping progressivism
wears me out rather than turns me on. Bush plays guitar. On most
tracks he's joined by Art Lande (piano) and Bruce Williamson (reeds,
mostly soprano sax), and when the three of them (plus bass and drums)
play they don't complement each other so much as race.
B

Michel Camilo: Solo (2005, Telarc).
I'm not much of a fan of solo piano, and this isn't the sort of record
that overcomes my prejudices, but it is thoughtful, delicate, and lovely
enough that it disarms much of them. He's good. Piano fans will enjoy
this. I rather enjoy it myself. But I can't see pushing it too hard.
B

Joe Carter/Nilson Matta: Two for Two (1999-2000 [2001],
Empathy).
Brazilian guitar with bass, an inevitably low-key combination. I don't
doubt but there's a real art to picking through these pieces, but what
always appealed most to me about samba was the exquisite rhythm, which
gets lost in the intricacy here. My grade here is less a question of
disliking the music than it is an expedient, a way of saying that this
is beneath my radar. No hard feelings.
B

Stian Carstensen: Backwards Into the Backwoods (2002
[2004], Winter & Winter).
Some interesting ideas here, but five solo improvisations (mostly on
accordion) in the middle of the record knocks the wind out of it, not
that it ever put enough of those interesting ideas together in a row
to go very far. Some interesting riddims. Some odd textures. Some art
shit.
B

Joaquín Chacón: Out of This World (2004, Fresh Sound).
Exceptionally nice guitar/piano quartet, with pianist Ben Besiakou
taking much of the space. But not much to write about.
B+

Craig Chaquico: Midnight Noon (2004, Higher Octave).
Ozzie Ahlers' keyboards are merely par for the course, but it no
doubt helps that this was cut by a touring band rather than pieced
together by a producer and the usual bevvy of studio hands. The
leader's guitar also has more zing to it than is usually deemed
appropriate for smooth jazz. He may have picked that up in his
previous rock band career, although it sounds more like Allmans
than Starship.
B

Aaron Choulai: Place (2003 [2004], Sunnyside).
Interesting backstory: 21-year-old pianist from Papua New Guinea via
Melbourne, Australia moves to New York and gets James Genus to play
on his first record. He picked up on his Jewish grandfather's passion
for Bach, made a brief tour of Melbourne's blues clubs, and wound up
with a jones for Bill Evans. He is talented and seriously ambitious,
but he hasn't developed an especially interesting style: most of this
sounds like the usual postmodern third stream mishmash, especially
when trumpeter Scott Wendholt lines up with saxophonist Tim Ries.
But when he keeps it simple his music can charm, as on the hornless
"Lotte" and on the ballad "You Don't Know What Love Is," a lovely
showcase for Ries.
B-

Jim Cifelli: Groove Station (2005, Short Notice Music).
Mild-mannered funk album, with the leader's trumpet working over guitar,
keyboards, bass, and drums, with sax from Dan Cipriano thrown in. I was
first attracted to it as an example of what "smooth jazz" ought to be,
but on a non-label it won't get a chance. Too bad, because unlike most
of what goes under that trademark it has some space -- the players are
individuals, and they work together instead of the usual blending.
B+

The Complete Norman Granz Jam Sessions (1952-54 [2004],
Verve, 5CD).
These jam sessions were like NBA all-star games: there's too much
talent to coach or coordinate, so just turn the stars loose and
let them show off. The sessions were released on LPs, imposing a
fifteen-minute-per-side regime, and each piece -- a few standards,
often strung together as medleys, plus staples like "Jam Blues"
and "Funky Blues" -- was stretched with solos. The most famous
jam sequenced solos by the three most famous alto saxophonists
of the era: Johnny Hodges, Charlie Parker, and Benny Carter. A
typical trumpet lineup was Roy Eldridge and Dizzy Gillespie. A
tenor sax lineup was Illinois Jacquet, Flip Phillips, and Ben
Webster, although Stan Getz and Wardell Gray get their licks in
on the second disc. The pianist, of course, was Granz stalwart
Oscar Peterson -- except when Count Basie and/or Arnold Ross sat
in. The only surprise here is forgotten bebop clarinetest Buddy
DeFranco, who steals the second disc and much of the last two.
A-

Joyce Cooling: This Girl's Got to Play (2004,
Narada Jazz).
So be it. But does she also have to sing? Her straight guitar groove
pieces are nothing special, but at least they have direction, unlike
producer Jay Wagner's keyboards.
C

The Swinging Side of Bobby Darin (1962-65 [2005],
Capitol Jazz).
Atlantic groomed him as a rock star, but Capitol lured him away with
an offer he couldn't resist: they auditioned him for Frank Sinatra's
vacancy, and he was smashing, swinging with Billy May's powerhouse
orchestra, winding his way through Bob Florence's more delicate
arrangements; the songbook is a bit obvious, the record is short, the
time had past, and he didn't stick with it, but for a moment it was
all he ever wanted to do.
A-

Eric Darius: Night on the Town (2004, Higher Octave
Music).
Another pretty good, but lightweight, disco album. Darius has that
nice bright tone on alto sax (much less so on tenor), and he gets
some help from Ken Navarro with the beats. The originals (two with
Navarro) move along nicely, which judging from their titles ("Joy
Ride," "Let It Flow," "Cruisin'") seems to be their sole reason for
being. Two soul covers ("Let's Stay Together," "Love TKO") are more
structured, and therefore less groovesome.
B

Down to the Bone: Cellar Funk (2004, Narada Jazz).
British group, according to AMG in the tradition of Brand New Heavies
and US3. Not sure who the three blokes in the booklet picture are: a
subset of the musicians: not even Ian Crabtree (guitar) or Neil Cowley
(keybds) appear on every track. That must make producer, arranger,
additional programmer Stuart Wade the mastermind. They use two bass
players (Richard Sadler, Simon T. Bramley), an extra keyb player
(Neil Angilley), occasional horns. No drummers, ergo no risk of
interference with the beats. Two pieces have vocals (Flora Purim
on one), maybe more, but none distinctive. Rather, these pieces
are pure groove exercises, funk beats with occasional vamps. They
feel empty to me.
B-

Amina Figarova: Come Escape With Me (2004 [2005],
Munich).
She's a young pianist from Azerbaijan with five albums under her belt.
Seems to have a good classical education, nice touch and plenty of
movement on the piano, and an interest in arranging. Her group includes
a flute player, two reeds, and trumpet/flugelhorn, as well as bass and
drums. The horns are usual overlayed, giving this an orchestrated feel,
on top of the usual smart-but-riskless postbop.
B

Kenny G: Ultimate Kenny G (1986-2002 [2003], Arista).
The grand duke of smooth jazz, the guy with the sales figures that
created and sustain the genre. The first point one must make is he
really does have an uncanny knack not only for playing pretty but for
developing arrangements of surpassing gorgeousness. Nothing wrong with
that, but G pursues one narrow definition of beauty with the
relentlessness of his first calling, which is business. But it should
also be noted that when he tries adding vocals he loses his touch --
aside from the one he stole from Louis Armstrong. He is much hated by
people who are devoted to jazz (not to mention fans of hip-hop, heavy
metal, and dozens of other niches), perhaps more as a false commercial
god than for anything he might lack in technique (not much, although
it's hard to tell) or inspiration (quite a bit, there).
B-

William Gagliardi Quintet: Hear and Now (2003 [2004],
CIMP).
Gagliardi's tenor sax and John Carlson's trumpet sometimes bump into
each other, but they can leave space for one another, as on "Surfin'
the Tigrus," or they can combine to raise the rafters, as on the last
cut, "Exaltation." Ken Wessel's guitar is usually good for a break,
while the bass and especially the drums tend to roam free. The seven
pieces all run long, with various stops and shifts. It's a mixed bag
overall, although definitely more positives than negatives.
B+

Benny Golson: Terminal 1 (2004, Concord).
Golson was in the second tier of late '50s tenor saxophonists, along
with Hank Mobley, a bit behind Dexter Gordon, John Coltrane, and Sonny
Rollins. Like Benny Carter, he spent much of his productive career in
Hollywood; like Carter he was the technical master of his generation,
and like Carter he restarted his career when he got old enough to
retire. Since then he's cranked out one solid mainstream album after
another, none too special (unlike Carter). This one was occasioned
by a small speaking role Steven Spielberg's movie Terminal,
but aside from the new title piece it mostly works back through his
songbook. Eddie Henderson joins on trumpet and steals the show early
on. The bit in the movie is built around Tom Hanks asking for Golson's
autograph -- a favor for his father, who had managed to collect
autographs from everyone besides Golson who appeared in the "Great
Day in Harlem" photo. Good thing that Golson is still alive. In some
sense that seems to be his calling card here, but he's still enough
of a player to earn his keep.
B+

Euge Groove: Livin' Large (2004, Narada Jazz).
A pseudonym for Steve Grove, he plays tenor as well as soprano sax,
and is nimble enough on the larger horn to gracefully engage Paul
Brown's stock grooves deserve. Two takes on a Sly Stone song --
as a rap and as an instrumental reprise -- fail to connect either
with song or subject.
C+

Herbie Hancock: The Piano (1978 [2004], Columbia/Legacy).
Although Hancock is universally considered as one of the most important
pianists in jazz history, I've never managed to get a good feel for
just what he sounds like, or what he does, as a pianist. His role in
the Miles Davis Quintet is well known; he made some marvelous records
under his own name for Blue Note in the '60s; he did some interesting
fusion work in the '70s, in a couple of cases portending breakthroughs,
in others dead ends. Since then he's inconsistently straddled fusion
and mainstream. Solo work often brings out the individuality in a
pianist, revealing idiosyncrasies that color their group work. But
in Hancock's case the performance is too subtle to enlighten, and
not flamboyant enough to entertain.
B

Gerry Hemingway: Songs (2001 [2002], Between the Lines).
Twelve of them, averaging six minutes, so no one's in a hurry, but they
do hold together not just as music but as songs, with lyrics and all
that. The singer is Lisa Sokolov, but compared to her Presence
she's contained here, working within the structure of the songs, like
a brilliant floodlight caged up in a lighthouse. But the song length
has more to do with the musical prowess. James Emery's guitar, John
Butcher and Elery Eskelin on tenor sax, Herb Robertson's trumpet,
Walter Wierbos' trombone -- all stand out. This is a unique item,
and not just in Hermingway's oeuvre.
A-

Arve Henriksen: Chiaroscuro (2004, Rune Grammofon).
Atmospheric electronic tableaux, decorated with a little trumpet. The
first cut opens unpleasantly with vocal warbling. I much prefer the
electronics that come later, especially when they start to kick up a
groove, but we're not talking Miles Davis groove, nor Nils Petter
Molvaer groove, nor even Jon Hassell groove -- just a little pulse.
B

Fred Hersch: Fred Hersch Trio + 2 (2004, Palmetto).
Hersch's trio is sharp enough they can play a Beatles song and not
get sunk by it. The "+ 2" are Ralph Alessi (trumpet, flugelhorn) and
Tony Malaby, and Malaby in particular pulls the trio outside. Sharp
playing all around.
B+

The Frank Hewitt Trio: Not Afraid to Live (2002 [2004],
Smalls).
The second of who knows how many tapes left over from the local legend.
Since what finally turned me on to the first was its warmth, I find
this one a bit more formal, more distant. But the two are pretty evenly
matched. For two months this is the one I played and puzzled over more.
He has a knack for something, but I'm not sure what it is.
B+

Holly Hofmann: Minor Miracle (2004, Capri).
As a rule, I don't care for flutes: the pitch range is narrow and high,
with none of the brassiness of the trumpet that gives high notes that
ability to pierce. Nonetheless, I can't dismiss this one out of hand.
This is just a horn plus rhythm section album, but Hofmann leads with
consistent relish, and the rhythm section is first rate.
B+

Robin Holcomb/Wayne Horvitz: Solos (2004, Songlines).
Wife and husband, taking turns playing solo piano, sometimes on the
other's pieces. This is out of character for both. I have her misfiled
under folk music, where she is a singer-songwriter of eclectic tastes,
not particularly known for her piano. He is a well-known jazz pianist
who mostly works on the fusion fringe, with connections ranging from
Bobby Previte to Bill Frisell to Tucker Martine. Moreover, he often
works with electronic keyboards, which is not the case here. These
pieces are spare and simple, delicately played. Give them time and
attention and they are charming, but for the most part they're so
unobtrusive that one doesn't give them much thought when they're on.
B+

Steve Howe/Martin Taylor: Masterpiece Guitars (2002,
P3).
Guitar duos, intricate, pleasant. Howe produced. He's famous from the
rock group Yes, but that was a long time ago, and a lot of guys from
the prog side the rock divide back then have wound up more/less in a
jazz orbit. Taylor is one of the finest acoustic guitarists working
today. Nothing wrong with this; just not enough right to overcome my
doubts, although I always enjoy "Moon River."
B

Incognito: Adventures in Black Sunshine (2004,
Narada Jazz).
English disco group, splitting the distance between Chic and EWF
without the distinctiveness that made those groups so great. Which
still leaves them with a dependable groove, the sort of anonymous
vocals that blend into the mix, and a warm and sunny disposition.
Their relationship to smooth jazz is tenuous, but I guess you take
the market niche you can get.
B+

Boney James: Pure (2004, Warner Brothers).
Every piece has at least six credits, with many adding a horn section
or a string section, with Boney's sax tucked into the matrix so neatly
that you notice neither the complexity nor the craft. Indeed, this
record comes as close to nothing as any I've ever heard: the rough
edges have all been smoothed over, the beats routinized, any trace of
personality expunged, even the guest vocals fade into oblivion.
B-

Al Jarreau: Accentuate the Positive (2004, Verve).
I find most male jazz vocalists impossibly mannered, and Jarreau is
no exception -- more like an archetype. Still, a series of standards
early on ("The Nearness of You," "I'm Beginning to See the Light,"
"My Foolish Heart," the title track) are impeccably professional.
He has a sly voice, gets good backing, and keeps his manners in
check, but things deteriorate with "Betty Bebop's Song" with its
slinky force-the-vocal-around-the-contours mannerism, and "Waltz
for Debby" with its lapse into vocalese. I tried to get into him
long ago, and couldn't. Still can't, although he's got something
going for much of this.
B

Keith Jarrett: The Out-of-Towners (2001 [2004], ECM).
How many records have these three put out now? The latest Penguin
Guide lists 13, counting the 6-CD At the Blue Note as one.
Add this one, and Up for It from last year, and you get to
fifteen. ECM does a good job of keeping their catalog in print,
and Jarrett is practically their flagship product, so that may
be it. In fact, it's not exceptionally prolific considering that
they got together as "the standards trio" in 1983. On the other
hand, they're just a piano trio: how much do you really need? The
flip side of this is that since 1983 Jarrett hasn't done much of
anything else: one trio record with Paul Motian instead of Jack
DeJohnette, a couple of solo albums. It seems fair to argue that
he's in a rut, and that's reinforced by the fact that this has
been plucked out from a three-year-old live show -- with all the
applause intact, as if to cheer him up. It's also worth noting
that DeJohnette's drums aren't that sharp -- compare him, e.g.,
on Geri Allen's Art of a Song. But also note that the
five-of-six standards aren't expected or obvious either: he's
still working his way around the idea of repertoire. Also that
the piano is as bright and supple as ever, although not played
with as much bombast as he's capable of. On balance, an ordinary
album by extraordinary musicians. About what you'd expect.
B+

Jing Chi: 3D (2004, Tone Center).
One of those chronic sideman supergroups. Only guitarist Robben Ford
has much of a discography under his own name, but bassist Jimmy Haslip
has appeared on over 100 records and drummer Vinny Colaiuta over 200.
Together, they sound like a more tuneful, more grooveful, more blissful
West, Bruce & Laing. Moreover, they don't try to sing, although
Robert Cray shows up to bland out a Blind Willie Johnson tune -- has
there ever been a blues singer more diametrically opposite to Johnson
than Cray? Still, Cray's the high point, then Ford's "Blues Alley,"
showing once again that the hardest dishes to screw up are the simplest.
B-

Henry Kaiser & Wadada Leo Smith: Yo Miles! Upriver
(2005, Cuneiform, 2CD).
The first Yo Miles! was meant as, or at least taken to be, a
tribute. As such, it wasn't surprising that it came off a bit pale
compared to the master -- most notably by lacking the dominant bass
line that Michael Henderson fed Davis. But having done their dues,
Kaiser and Smith have released two more double-disc sets. Evidently
they like the neighborhood and have decided to settle down. Both
Kaiser and Smith are meeker and fussier players than McLaughlin
and Davis, but this means their improvisations are more interesting
within the broader context, even if their leadership doesn't pull
that context into new terrain. When fusion split off from Davis
the main groups (Weather Report, Return to Forever) were dominated
by keyboard players and their music rapidly turned to prog-rock
mush. This is the side that never really developed, so restarting
from the start is a canny move.
A-

Eyvind Kang & Tucker Martine: Orchestra Dim Bridges
(2004, Conduit).
Non-swinging, non-rocking, non-newage instrumental music -- viola and
guitar, plus lots of electronics -- assembled not improvised. Martine
is a producer who works on the edges of jazz and electronica while
paying his bills wiring up singer-songwriter albums. Kang plays viola,
most prominently on Martine's albums. Intended for people who thought
Eno was onto something with *Another Green World* but lost the trail
with *Ambient Music* and lost even that trail with *Music for Airports*,
et al.
B+

Diana Krall: The Girl in the Other Room (2004, Verve).
Her covers (Mose Allison, Tom Waits, Bonnie Raitt, Joni Mitchell) have
a lot more sonic punch than the originals, mostly minor pieces with
Elvis Costello lyrics. A couple of the latter come through, and someday
this may be seen as a transitional album for her. Or it may be a detour.
B

Gordon Lee and the GLeeful Big Band: Flying Dream
(2004, OA2).
One thing I'm surprised by is how many big band records are coming
out. The economic viability of big bands ended half a century ago,
but it seems like everyone still fancies themselves as arrangers.
This one is much like most of them: thrilling for moments, dull
and dawdling for others. A song called "Tobacco Monkey" could be
a Choice Cut. There are other good moments, but not enough to
tempt me to stick with it.
B

Peggy Lee: Black Coffee (1953-56 [2004], Verve).
Cut with two small jazz groups that do everything right, Lee works
through a fine set of standards with equal aplomb; recommended to
the Kansas Board of Education: "It Ain't Necessarily So."
A-

Bradley Leighton: Just Doin' Our Thang (2005,
Pacific Coast Jazz).
I don't dislike flutes as much as Christgau does, but I'm not much of
a fan either. Leighton's alto flute is a bit of an improvement over
the more familiar, higher pitched instrument. His song selection is
hard to characterize: Bobby Hebb ("Sunny"), Charlie Parker, Henry
Mancini, Gershwins ("Summertime"), Bobby Womack, Santana, Bill Withers,
Kurt Weill & Ogden Nash, three originals. The title suggests that
his oddness is deliberate, and the album has an agreeable hookiness
to it. But flute and organ? Maybe someday this will be recognized
as a classic statement of bubblegum jazz, but I doubt it.
B

The Jay Leonhart Trio: Cool (2004, Sons of Sound).
The model is Oscar Robertson's trio with Ray Brown and Herb Ellis,
but that's just the starting point. Pianist Ted Rosenthal is in the
mode but not the real McCoy; guitarist Joe (son of Al) Cohn prefers
Wes Montgomery, which whittles the swing down a bit. And the leader
plays bass, so that gets mixed up front, and sings a bit, which
unfortunately does too. It has a '50s vibe, cool not in the sense
of laid back and debonair, more like hipster jive. The album cover
is one of those cheapie two-color jobs like Prestige used to do,
or maybe Pacific Jazz. It's a likable record, but almost trivial.
B+

Kirk Lightsey: The Nights of Bradley's (1985 [2004],
Sunnyside).
After hours work for Lightsey and bassist Rufus Reid, playing at the
time in Dexter Gordon's band. Lightsey is a tough pianist to describe.
Perhaps because he developed mostly working behind singers, but also
because he was a perennial in other players' groups (e.g., the Leaders),
he makes it a point to fit in, but doesn't make a show of it. Reid is
a strong bassist; he is prominent here, and very lyrical when he takes
the lead. Lightsey is less obvious, but always close to the mark, and
when he's done you are gratified, but can't quite describe how or why.
At least I can't.
B+

Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra: A Love Supreme (2005,
Palmetto).
Wynton Marsalis' arrangement of the John Coltrane Quartet's singular
classic is, at least, goofier than I would have suspected. I enjoy
the way he interleaves such a wide range of horns into the chant
theme. But the same trick in the slow concluding "Psalm" movement
loses its humor -- the best you can say for it is that the occasional
shrillness helps cut the corn. I don't know what the idea here was.
Perhaps it's just to try to ease high culturedom's most famous jazz
orchestra into more modern (only 40 years old) repertory, allowing
them to fan out a well-known small group piece instead of rehacking
big band standards. In any case, Marsalis' devotion to classicism
leaves him few options as an arranger, so he twiddles instead of
trying to break out into something new. As an exercise, he might
try "Ascension" next -- but Dave Liebman and ROVA have already
gone there.
B-

Kerry Linder: Sail Away With Me (2004, Blue Toucan).
Very likable Brazilian vocal album. Linder actually hails from Curaçao,
but sings ably in Portuguese as well as English. The songs are split
between U.S. and Brazilian sources, with "That's All," "As Time Goes
By," "Song for My Father," "God Bless the Child," and something from
Paul Simon given the Brazilian treatment, but I'm more impressed by
the authentic standards, like Baden Powell's "Deixa." One original,
written on the anniversary of 9/11. She explains, "I startd to put
down my feelings on paper an drealized that what people need is
music -- beautiful music, soothing music -- that will take them to
a better place." Sure beats Afghanistan.
B+

Jeff Lorber: Flipside (2005, Narada Jazz).
There is a light, confectionary quality to Lorber's piano. Like much
of the genre the synth beats lope along and everything else is tucked
in neatly, including more trumpet and saxophone as the album winds
along. Still, the extra instruments add little weight or diversity;
rather, they intensify the sense that the music is mere mirage, a
nothing that appears enchanting from a distance.
B

Joe Lovano: I'm All for You (2003 [2004], Blue Note).
I thought about making this Dud of the Month, but Hank Jones doesn't
deserve the knock -- maybe Kenny Barron or John Hicks or the late,
great Tommy Flanagan would have been a better choice, to name three
players who have a slight edge at finnessing ballads, but Jones isn't
the problem here. I'm not sure that Lovano is either, although he
does lack the one thing that great balladeers can't afford to lack:
a really distinctive tone. Ben Webster, obviously, was the all-time
king in that respect, but players as diverse as Ernie Watts, Scott
Hamilton and Bennie Wallace have distinguished themselves on ballads.
Lovano plays thoughtfully, but the only cut that lets him stretch
out is John Coltrane's "Countdown," distinguished by the long lines
Lovano is a master of. It's also the one cut where Motian takes an
active role -- elsewhere you wonder whether he's wondering why they
even need a drummer if all they're playing are ballads. Mraz, as
well, is mostly wasted, although his solos are impeccable as you'd
expect.
B

Russell Malone: Playground (2004, Max Jazz).
A rather complicated lineup that doesn't seem to give anyone much space
to play, least of all the guitarist. The moods shift; much of this is
rather upbeat, but it's so indistinct that I have trouble remembering
it two minutes after it's done. Gary Bartz is credited on alto sax.
When you can't remember him playing something's wrong. Still, I'm more
tempted to pull my punches than go back for another round. I can't
remember hearing anything dislikable either.
B

The Manhattan Transfer: Vibrate (2004, Telarc).
The doo-wop finale is too cute by half, but the source music is so
great that I almost cut them some slack. Not so with the vocalese
or the Beach Boys or whatever else lurks in these grooves.
C

Branford Marsalis: Coltrane's A Love Supreme Live in
Amsterdam (2003 [2004], Marsalis Music/Rounder, DVD+CD).
A disturbing trend: this has been packaged as a DVD with a bonus music
CD. I have no interest in the DVD, and wouldn't have noticed this had
it not been for a correspondent. I also missed Marsalis' previous
studio version of "A Love Supreme," which was packaged with a new
version of Sonny Rollins' "Freedom Now Suite" on Footsteps of
Our Fathers (2002). Given the extended nature of those pieces,
that doesn't quite qualify as an oldies album. One suspects that the
big frameworks should be attractive for the opportunities that they
open up. But at least in this case the attraction is that Coltrane's
solemn classic turns out to be fun to play. Certainly a helluva lot
more fun than the ballads on Eternal.
B+

Juan Martin: Camino Latino (2001-02 [2002],
Flamencovision).
Martin is a flamenco guitarist with more than ten albums out. Despite
a plethora of credits, this one is mostly sharply stung acoustic guitar
with handclaps, castanets and other percussion. The songs bridge several
latin forms -- rumba, bossa nova, bulerias, guajira, and cancion are
noted, while song titles like "Cuba y España," "Bossa Rumba," "Gitana
Latina," and "Milonga Tango" suggests further agendas. Not sure how
or why I got this -- don't see it as a jazz record, although there
is something there.
B+

Medeski Martin & Wood: End of the World Party (Just in
Case) (2004, Blue Note).
I like them just fine, but can't say that they've mastered the art of
partying like it's 1999. Of course, Prince was approaching a phony
phantasm of apocalypse. Bush, Cheney, et al., are something more
sobering to fear.
B+

Makanda Ken McIntyre: In the Wind: The Woodwind Quartets
(1995-96 [2004], Passin' Thru).
McIntyre plays everything, overdubbing four part harmonies using
various clusters of related instruments: clarinets, flutes, double
reeds, saxophones. As you might guess, only the saxophones have
any bite -- perhaps because that's what McIntyre normally plays.
Especially with the flutes and clarinets, the harmony doesn't
amount to much, and the melodic divergences are slight. And in
each cluster of instruments the lack of contrasting color amounts
to white-out (or looking at the back cover, maybe pink-out). This
description probably sounds abysmal, but mostly I'm annoyed by a
very talented saxophonist indulging a patently bad idea. Were I
not so annoyed, I'd point out that parts of this do grow on you,
much like minimalism lowers our standards to the point where we
can appreciate minor details.
C+

Carlos Michelini: Charactera Below Zero (2003 [2004],
Fresh Sound World Jazz).
Even though this is on Fresh Sound's "World Jazz" imprint, it doesn't
sound all that different from their "New Talent" fare. Michelini is
from Argentina, which keeps him closer to Europe than to Afro-America.
Moreover, even though one number has "Piazzola" in its title, nothing
hints of tango here. Mostly long, thoughtful sax lines (Michelini),
often enticing guitar (Julio Santillon), impressive piano (Leo
Genovese).
B+

Grachan Moncur III Octet: Exploration (2004 [2005],
Capri).
One problem with octets is that the horns sort of melt into each other.
That may be the arranger's intention, but it rarely pleases me: cuts
down the individuality of the performers, even when there is a parade
of soloists, as there is here. The hornpower looks impressive on paper,
especially Gary Bartz, Billy Harper, and Gary Smulyan on the saxes.
Bass and drums are first rate, and no piano. But only Tim Hagans makes
an impression that sticks with me. I feel like I ought to put it back
and try it again, but I've done that too many times already. Just not
my thing.
B

Monk's Music Trio: Think of One (2004, CMB).
Sure, this is old hat. There must be hundreds of all-Monk albums out
there. Probably half of them piano trios. And thousands of Monk songs
on other albums. Most jazz musicians try to work something off the
changes, but the songs invariably rebound: let's face it, Monk is
Monk. So why bother? Beats me. This one is well done, sound bright,
moves a bit. Bass and drums get some space and use it well. Pianist
Si Perkoff has a sharp, percussive attack. If you ever hear this
you'll enjoy it. But it doesn't go any further than that.
B+

Barbara Montgomery: Little Sunflower (2002,
Mr. Bean and Bumpy).
Her precise and weighty voice grabs your attention. There's nothing
more standard here than a couple of Chick Corea pieces. She wrote
the rest -- the lyrics at least, mostly with melodies from pianist
Chris Sames, in two cases going back to instrumentals by Freddie
Hubbard and Duke Pearson. The lyrics include a couple of thoughtful
laments for the post-9/11 world. The music is precise but light;
it keeps a prudent distance, never overwhelming her vocals, just
nudging them along with a genteel postbop swing. John Swana is
particularly useful, his trumpet adding just the right shine and
lift.
B+

Justin Mullens & the Delphian Jazz Orchestra (2004,
Fresh Sound).
This is a nouveau big band record: a 16-piece group assembled from New
York musicians (best known is Chris Cheek), working through Mullens'
elaborately tailored postmodernism. While there is a great deal of art
to the tailoring, I find that there is little here that catches my
interest and makes me care. Certainly not the vocalist, whose scat
is merely one more instrumental texture.
B-

Klaus Paier/Stefan Gfrerer/Roman Werni: Live, Vol. 1
(2002-03 [2003], PAO).
Trios function two ways: as minimal support for a dominant leader (e.g.,
Sonny Rollins) or as minimal communities for interaction (e.g., the Bad
Plus). This one is both: Paier would be Rollins, but accordion doesn't
dominate the way tenor sax does, and anyway Gfrerer (bass) and Werni
(drums) won't be denied. Not sure where they come from, or where this
was recorded, but the record company is based in Austria. Sounds to
me like the Hot Club of Salzburg, or some other small Austrian burg.
Haven't heard Vol. 2, where they are joined by the Movimento
String Quartet.
B+

Jeff Parker & Scott Fields: Song Songs Song
(2004, Delmark).
Fields seems to have the upper hand here. I don't know his work, but
whereas Parker has tended to work in postbop lines, this is much closer
to Derek Bailey/Fred Frith territory. When it works it's interesting,
but it doesn't work all that often -- even though I've played it enough
to get used to it as background.
B

Madeleine Peyroux: Careless Love (2004, Rounder).
The first thing you notice is how much she sounds like Billie Holiday.
The second thing is how superficial the resemblance is. The match is
based on vocal tone, which rings like struck crystal. That's a more
difficult trick than the phrasing, which can be learned by careful
approximation, or could if Holiday could be approximated. Familiar
songs like "Weary Blues" really bring this out. But when she tries
something different, like Bob Dylan's "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome,"
she falls off her game. I'm ambivalent about this, neither wanting
to credit her for impersonation nor to deny her her right to pursue
an artistic vision. Singers like Ella Fitzgerald, Carmen McRae, Sarah
Vaughan, June Christy, etc., are archetypes -- there are legions of
followers behind each, some working subtle changes, some just latching
on for the ride. But I'm not aware of any previous jazz singer running
the risk of comparison to Holiday; I suspect the reason is not so much
that it's difficult as that her unapproachability is part of her allure.
I have no idea whether Peyroux understands any of this -- it's the sort
of argument that feels like a personal quirk. Still, Peyroux hasn't
accomplished anything here impressive enough to avoid such thoughts.
She could use a better band.
B

Pharoah's Daughter: Out of the Reeds (2000 [2004],
Tzadik).
Traditional texts with more/less traditional music, mostly by guitar/oud
player Basya Schechter, but accompanied by many regulars and guests --
most of whom sing, chant, or at least clap along.
B+

Courtney Pine: Devotion (2003 [2004], Telarc).
Pine seems to be undervalued as a jazz musician and overvalued as a
pop star, not that he meets anyone's expectations as either. Were
he a more complete pop star his albums would flow better and hook
harder. On the other hand, if he concentrated more as on his jazz
he would open up more space to play in, to explore, to develop his
musicianship. His saxophones, bass clarinet and alto flute cut a
rather thin profile here; his other credit is on Pro Tools, and
his main mark here is in conception and production. After all,
this is built like a pop album: the intro and outro pieces give
it conceptual structure, but in between breaks down to standalone
songs -- two with vocals (the better features Carleen Anderson in
"When the World Turns Blue"), one with brass for Nigeria's Osibisa,
one with sitar and tabla, the gospel-tinged title song, the upbeat
"Sister Soul." It makes for an odd mix; if this be crossover he
could just as well be trying to cross over from pop to jazz as
the other way around.
B+

Pink Martini: Hang On Little Tomato (2004, Heinz).
I guess I'd classify this as "world pop" -- the first song offers a bit
of tango, the second more like mambo, later on they engage in French
and Italian and Japanese and something Slavic (translations provided,
but they don't note the language translated from). The two singers are
named China Forbes and Timothy Nishimoto -- Forbes is particularly
appealing. The band includes brass and strings and vibes and more
exotic instruments, including the ubiquitous "percussion." There's a
picture of the group backed by the Eifel Tower. I could imagine falling
for them, but after a half-dozen-plus spins I'm more impressed and
bewildered.
B+

Doc Powell: Cool Like That (2004, Heads Up).
Powell's a pleasantly funky guitarist, with work for Wilson Pickett
and Luther Vandross on his resume. Centerpiece here seems to be "Let
It Be" -- done both as an instrumental and with a guest vocalist.
The guest vocals (two in number) are easily forgettable; so are the
instrumentals, but they hold up better.
B

Bruno Råberg Nonet: Chrysalis (2004, Orbis Music).
A nonet isn't quite a big band, but it offers as many options as a
Swiss army knife, and it's tempting for a composer/arranger (in this
case also the bassist) to get carried away. This he does right from
the git-go and often enough thereafter that I was prepared to dismiss
this. In a sense I am still dismissing it, but I have to note that he
comes up with clever things for all nine pieces, and there are quite
a few points where my ears perk up.
B+

Enrico Rava: Easy Living (2003 [2004], ECM).
The sixty-year-old, gray-haired avant-gardist looks comfortable and
relaxed on the cover, which roughly sums up this album. It is not
reminiscent of any cutting edge, nor is it stuck in any recognizable
genre. Not fast. Not slow. Not difficult. Not too easy. Comfortable,
engaging music. MVP: pianist Stefano Bollani.
B+

Dave Rempis Quartet: Out of Season (2004, 482 Music).
Two-fifths of the Vandermark Five (Rempis plus Tim Daisy on drums), along
with bassist Jason Roebke and Vandermark's Steelwheel Trio pianist Jim
Baker. Exploratory avant-jazz, ranging from quiet patches with little
structure to explosive bursts of energy. I'm more impressed by the
potential than the actuality, but after several listens I think he's
up to something.
B+

Claire Ritter: Greener Than Blue (2004, Zoning).
A student of Mary Lou Williams and Ran Blake, Ritter strikes me as a
composer first, pianist second. The pieces here are short, the blue
side more rhythmic, the green side ("World Poems for Peace") more
subtly colored. The cover notes "Featuring: Newest Trio," but the
pieces use four musicians in various combinations, and Ted Low plays
viola instead of the expected bass. Stan Strickland plays soprano
sax and bass clarinet, working on about half of the pieces. She
also toys with exotic percussion, and Low plays erhu on the final
cut. Music this subtle and intricate requires attention, but the
details are worth it. Except the voice, that is.
B+

Jazz Ambassador: Scott Robinson Plays the Compositions of
Louis Armstrong (2004, Arbors).
The idea here is to take the songs that Armstrong actually wrote and
treat them as a songbook. Robinson thought of this while following
the master's footsteps in a State Department Jazz Ambassador's tour.
A second idea is that Robinson chose to play many of these pieces
with a wide range of non-standard, often archaic, instruments: echo
cornet, C-melody sax, F mezze-soprano sax, trombonium, double bell
euphonium, ophicleide. Neither of these are particularly deep ideas:
they work more through their good cheer than because they reveal new
subtleties in their subject matter. After all, Armstrong's songbook
doesn't go far beyond things like "Potato Head Blues" and "Cornet
Chop Suey" -- showcases for Armstrong and death traps for anyone
else. But as good cheer goes, note that Mike LeDonne's organ caries
"Gully Low Blues" -- until Robinson's bass sax finishes the job.
B+

Glauco Sagebin: When Baden Meets Trane (2004, Blue Toucan).
Brazilian jazz pianist, in a standard trio, half originals, half standards
including Jobim and Buarque and a marvelous "Fascinating Rhythm." Title
cut refers to Brazilian guitarist Baden Powell, aspiring for a North-South
connection, with Sagebin's homeland providing the fodder and framework for
his real calling, which is jazz. Very solid work.
B+

David Sánchez: Coral (2004, Columbia).
Meant as one of those "dream come true" (Sánchez' words) projects, but
ultimately just another sax plus strings thing. Aside from Stan Getz'
Focus, all such records flounder on the reduction of the strings
to backdrop -- pretty at best, more likely syrupy. Sánchez brings a
first rate latin group to the party and a set of latin themes (two
of his own, plus Jobim, Ginastera, Villa-Lobos, and Franzetti). For
the strings they hooked up with the City of Prague Philharmonic, who
no doubt are masters of their own legacy, but reduced to anonymous
backdrop here. Sánchez plays with great care, although the pieces
and the arrangements don't support the exuberance he displayed on
his remarkable Obsésion album. Of this one he says, "I wanted
to produce something of great beauty." He did, but beauty isn't all
it's cracked up to be.
B+

The John Sheridan Trio: Artistry 3 (2002 [2004],
Arbors).
The "3" at the end of the title is a superscript, as in cubed. That's
about the only thing pretentious about this mild mannered piano trio.
They work through old standards, swinging with easy grace and a light
touch.
B+

Sammy Sherman: A Jazz Original Live at Chan's (1994-98
[2004], Arbors).
A memento of the late trombonist/violinist, assembled from several live
dates recorded well into his 80s, playing with better-known daughter
Daryl Sherman on piano (plus two vocals) and various band members
from the Arbors orbit. He's enjoyable but unexceptional on trombone,
which gives this a somewhat amateurish air. Some good guitar, cornet,
an interesting "Summertime." I like it, but it's minor.
B+

Slow Train Soul: Illegal Cargo (2004, Tommy Boy).
Neo-soul (or nu-soul) thing, a keyb programmer (Morlen Varano) and
a singer (Lady Z), a combination that I've seen before (pass off as
smooth jazz, even), but better done here. What keeps these things
a notch below the state of the art is vocal anonymity, but that
isn't such a bad thing -- especially compared to gospel ululations.
Attractive, loose, spacious feel. Don't think it amounts to much,
but I rather like it.
B+

Jimmy Smith: Retrospective (1956-86 [2004],
Blue Note, 4CD).
Smith raised the Hammond B-3 organ from a toy to a serious jazz
instrument. He pumped up the blues with the organ's churchy sound,
then worked out boppish variations at a feverish pace. He was so
fast, so versatile, that his records were often attribued to The
Incredible Jimmy Smith. Something like Soul Jazz had long existed
as an instrumental analog to R&B, but after Smith it morphed,
its signature sound Smith's organ. Dozens of organists followed in
his footsteps, but for his tenure with Blue Note from 1956 to 1963
he was the undisputed master. Early on he mostly played in trios
with guitar and drums, often with Kenny Burrell or Grant Green.
As time passed he worked more with horns, most comfortably with
Stanley Turrentine -- Back to the Chicken Shack and Prayer
Meetin' are definitive Soul Jazz albums. With only one cut after
1963, this just covers his formative period, but he never changed
much -- his performance on Joey DeFrancesco's Legacy (Concord),
cut shortly before his death, is every bit as true to form.
A-

Statesmen of Jazz: Multitude of Stars (2004, Arbors, 2CD).
Clark Terry reigns as Music Director, but he's merely the first among
equals. The two discs here are filled up with six distinct groups plus
one solo cut by pianist Jane Jarvis. The groups are small-ish, usually
4-6 pieces, each with its own leader but a largely common swing-based
repertoire. There are many delights -- Carrie Smith's vocals (just two
cuts), Frank Wess tenor sax, Buddy DeFranco clarinet, Johnny Frigo's
violin. Ed Polcer's group aces "Honeysuckle Rose," with Ken Peplowski
filling in for the late Benny Carter.
B+

Territory Band-3: Map Theory (2002 [2004], Okka Disk,
2CD).
There are spots here where the big band shines, where the horns come
through and the joint rocks. But they are far and few between. Much
of this is taken up by chicken scratches, little bleeps and barks
and blips that don't connect and don't go anywhere. Vandermark's
liner notes are touching, and sometimes I think I'm starting to get
it, but in the end I find it underwhelming. Not what you'd expect
in avant-big band. On the other hand, I can't quite bring myself
to put it on the Duds list, even to show I'm not a sucker for every
album he puts out.
B

Nestor Torres: Sin Palabras (Without Words) (2004,
Heads Up).
Torres hails from Puerto Rico, plays flute, and has been making easy
listening latino jazz records since 1989. At his best, his band kicks
up an irresistible latino groove and he flies above it adding something
distinct. At least three songs here fit that bill, especially the title
song, which especially benefits from his use of the larger, breathier
alto flute. He's good enough to be fun to listen to, but his band (or
more accurately, his studio musicians) aren't. Aside from horns on
one cut, all he gets going are guitar, bass, and keybs, with maybe
a hint of conga among the programmed beats, and that doesn't really
do it.
B-

Trio Mundo: Rides Again (2004, Zoho).
The star here is probably Dave Stryker, the guitarist, who has quite
a few impressive albums under his own name. But the focus is on Manolo
Badrena, who serves up the latin rhythms and takes vocals on most of
the pieces. The vocals hit and miss, rarely adding anything to the
music, which is quite attractive. Bassist Andy McKee completes the
Trio, but for this time (their second album) the group expanded to
include saxophonist Steve Slagle -- a solid contributor, especially
on the mid-tempo "Dream Maurice."
B+

Stanley Turrentine: Don't Mess With Mister T. (1973
[2004], CTI/Epic/Legacy).
Turrentine's tenor sax is deep, rich, vibrant, as always. He followed
in Ben Webster's footsteps, and was in turn followed by Houston Person.
Turrentine's early work was done with soul jazz organ, and Richard Tee
reprises that here, but what's more distinctive about this album is
Bob James' electric piano, which gives a sharper harmony on top of the
organ. If producer Creed Taylor had stopped there he might have come
up with a more compelling album. Instead, he tacks on a whole string
ensemble. At best, they can be ignored. At best, Turrentine soars so
high above them that they just don't matter. The bonus tracks are
more, including more exciting.
B+

McCoy Tyner: Illuminations (2004, Telarc).
Tyner takes an all-star band to the races, and whups their asses. He
does four of his own songs; one each by bandmates Gary Bartz, Terence
Blanchard, and Christian McBride (Lewis Nash got left out); a couple
of standards. Bartz plays the sort of fast, sweet, riffy, boppish sax
that he's famous for. Blanchard takes a lot of shots up high, clearly
enjoying himself. McBride and Nash are mixed way down, their solos
dull but the band swings so hard they must be doing something right.
And Tyner rips off one torrential solo after another. Surefire formula
for a great musician running out of ideas: get an equally great band
together, and party!
B+

Claudia Villela With Kenny Werner: Dreamtales
(2004, Adventure Music).
I assume she's from Brazil, but there's nothing uniquely Brazilian
about this record. Her songs are in English, even "The Girl From
Ponta Negra." And it's just her and Kenny Werner's piano, so the
usual trappings of guitar and percussion are nowhere to be found.
Werner brings some intensity to his role as accompanist, while
she focuses as much on her scat as the words -- probably more.
The intimacy here is appealing.
B

Eric Vloeimans: Hidden History (2003, Challenge).
This seems both typical and exemplary of Jazz in Europe these days.
Pianist Rita Marcotulli had been playing in a duo with Roberto Gatto
(drums) when Vloeimans (trumpet) joined them. The group was fleshed
out with veteran bassist Palle Danielsson, went on tour. Then they cut
this admirable album, with four trumpet solos and two trumpet-piano
duets stitching together pieces by all the band members (plus "Over
the Rainbow").
B+

Andre Ward: Steppin' Up (2004, Award/Orpheus).
This is the best crossover/smooth jazz album I've heard all year.
It reminds me of the left-wing mostly instrumental disco made by
guys like Bohannon, except it's not so left-wing -- Ward's warm
alto sax is far to comfy for that. I would rate it higher but the
vocals don't hold up -- he probably has some marketing data to
justify them, but they beg comparisons to nu-soul, which as far
as I've been able to figure out takes a great singer to make a
merely good record. Chantel Rose and Maurice Jacobs aren't great
singers, but they merely interfere here; their cuts are a small
subset.
B+

Bob Wilber and the Tuxedo Big Band: More Never Recorded
Arrangements for Benny Goodman, Volume Two (2002 [2003],
Arbors).
Wish I had heard Vol. 1, which was limited to Fletcher Henderson
arrangements. This includes work from a wide range of other arrangers,
plus a Wilber original written for the band ("Tuxedo Stomp"). On the
one hand, this sounds spectacular: the band gets deep into Goodman,
and their cohesiveness as a unit is impressive. On the other hand,
the soloists perhaps inevitably lack the personality of Goodman's
stars. Wilber takes all of the clarinet solos, which he handles with
great skill but still comes up short compared to Goodman's own light
touch. The drums also lack the kick of Gene Krupa. In a sense these
are just quibbles -- the real payback is in hearing a band that is
neither recreating the old nor pioneering the new but continuing an
old music into the present day.
B+

Rob Wilkerson: Imaginary Landscape (2002 [2003],
Fresh Sound).
Eloquent post-post-bop saxophonist, sez he's influenced by guys like
Mark Turner and Reid Anderson, so maybe we need a few more posts in
there. Mostly mid-tempo improv, does a good job of developing his
lines and a nice job of atmospherics, but runs the risk of getting
stuck in the post-avant mainstream like so many others. Chris Cheek
adds a bit of harmony, but isn't much of a jouster. Jesse Chandler
acquits himself well on organ, which is nicely matched as a support
instrument.
B+

Jessica Williams: Live at Yoshi's, Volume One
(2004, MaxJazz).
She's got ideas: a lot of different things going on here, as interesting
on the fast ones as the slow ones, although her originals take a little
more probing. Good trio. Good selection.
B+

Spike Wilner Ensemble: Late Night: Live at Smalls (2003,
Fresh Sound).
Enjoyable album, four cuts with just piano trio, the rest with sax and
guitar added, fleshing out a well-rounded group. Mainstream, runs both
bop and swing depending on the material. (Hendrickson Smith is more of
a swing/mainstream player; Wilner tends more to bop. Not an important
album/group, but probably a low honorable mention.
B+

Josh Workman: Jumpin' at the Border (2004, Tetrachord
Music).
A wide range of things, as if he's trying to cram everything he can do
into his debut record. Several latin pieces (choro, bolero, Brazilian
pieces), gypsy swing, bluesy swing, lots of swing, bebop from Parker
and Gillespie, something "Monkish," a "You're Blasé" based on Joe Pass,
a piece with the Hot Club of San Francisco, two Kim Nalley vocals.
I hate to complain that a guy's trying too hard to please, but this
leaves you wondering where he really wants to go. Or whether he even
knows. My guess is that he just loves borders.
B+

Robert Wyatt: Solar Flares Burn for You (1972-2003
[2003], Cuneiform).
Wyatt is one of my favorite singers, but I don't doubt that he is a
taste that wears hard on most listeners. He sings in what might be
called a failed falsetto -- he reaches high but rarely succeeds --
and his decidedly English accent colors every phrase.
B-

Miguel Zenón: Ceremonial (2004, Marsalis Music/Rounder).
He's an auspicious talent on alto sax, brilliant tone, forceful dynamics.
This has a distinct latin tinge, but fits more properly into the stream
of post-Coltrane modal saxophone, with its long, searching runs. Also
with its religious themes, which here and there are given choral voices.
I could do without the exultation, myself.
B+

Music: Initial count 10463 [10439] rated (+24), 880 [893] unrated (-12).
Jazz CG and Recycled Goods should be published this week. Been doing a lot
of research on jazz labels, as well as cleanup work related to JCG. Don't
have a fixed listening agenda, although it would be good to make progress
on next set of columns. Or at least to knock down some backlog. Need to
do taxes. Haven't touched the blog in a week, so need to do some of that
too.

Trace Adkins: Chrome (2001, Capitol). Like the title
song, about a girl whose's favorite color is chrome. Dislike one called
"I'm Goin' Back" -- the overpowering swoop and swerve bombs out his
more likably offhand style. Last cuts dig deeper into the strings.
B

Joey DeFrancesco: Where Were You? (1990, Columbia).
I remember sometime around 1990 some writer claiming that it's no
accident that all the major jazz organ players are black.
At the time I was listening to Barbara Dennerlein, who isn't, but
over the subsequent decade DeFrancesco, who also isn't, was the
one who emerged as jazz's best-known young organist. This is an
early album, but he's moved far out of the usual soul jazz rut,
mostly into big band terrain. I find that overkill, but guest
shots by John Scofield and especially Illinois Jacquet are welcome.
B

Joe Diffie: Tougher Than Nails (2004, Broken Bow).
The title song, first up, is about Jesus. Second song is about radio.
Who says country singers don't know how to pander? He's just one of
a bunch of country singers I don't know from squat, and this is just
one of a half-dozen or so albums he's dropped in the last decade or
so. He's got a deep, rich twang, and employs a standard issue neotrad
band, which means he sounds better than he reads. One good song,
"Something I Do For Me" ("I work overtime 'cause my boss is a jerk,"
but mostly he just drives around for the hell of it, which I can
relate to). Closer, "My Redneck of the Woods," is crap, with fiddle
that could have been Charlie Daniels but isn't. Probably a good sign
that he co-wrote the good one and not the bad one. B

The Incredible String Band: 5000 Spirits or the Layers of the
Onion / The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter (1967-68 [2002],
Collectors' Choice, 2CD). Second and third albums from the English
folk (or folk rock?) group, or duo (Mike Heron, Robin Williamson)
as the case may be. The former album sounds like they may be onto
something, the suspect folk sounds with a little rockish bounce,
perhaps flirting with psychedelia. But the latter (much sparser)
album goes over the deep end, reminding me of Syd Barrett at his
most deranged -- perhaps not quite as tuneful, but the sitar adds
something exotic. Earlier separate editions on Hannibal seem to
be out of print. They could be rated B and C,
respectively. C+

The Last Poets featuring Kain: Poetry Is Black
([2002], Collectables). But anyone can spew bullshit. No info on
when these rants with occasional drums were recorded -- the label's
website says late '60s, which could be true: group got together
in 1968, recorded first album (on Douglas, last seen on Fuel 2000)
1970. That album is pretty impressive, but these bits are pretty
crude. This doesn't show up in AMG, or in any discography that isn't
just a record catalog. This does have a lot of overlap with a 1970
album, Right On!, but the notion that it's a reissue runs
against the fact that Collectables has a reissue of that album as
well. Gets better than they throw a little jazz behind it, as on
"Look Out for the Blue Guerilla." B-

The Perceptionists: Black Language (2005, Definitive
Jux). Akrobatik, Mr. Lif, DJ Fakts One. More power than they need, or
deploy separately. I don't get the line about soldiers not realizing
that they'd be killing women and children -- these guys aren't that
dumb, even if the soldiers they sing about are. A-

George Schuller/The Schulldogs: Tenor Tantrums (1999,
New World). Great title, don't you think? Still, Schuller's just a
drummer, so what does he know? The two tenor saxes here are wielded
by Tony Malaby and George Garzone. Malaby's control is so complete
one isn't tempted to describe anything he does as a tantrum. Garzone
has had his fringe moments (if you know what I mean), but he seems
to have mellowed with age. This actually has that nice, slightly
abstract sound to it, giving everyone a little elbow room without
wandering too far. B+

Two Siberians: Out of Nowhere (2005, WA/Heads Up).
The names sound Russian to me -- Yuri Matveyev on guitar, Artyom
Yakushenko on violin, both plugged in -- but there are many more
Russians in Siberia these days than natives. Just wanted to point
out that we're not listening to the latest wave in Chukchi folk
music these days. Some other musicians here and there, including
Mino Cinelu, Don Byron, and the ubiquitous Michael Brecker (who
also gets a production credit). B+

Markus Stockhausen: Possible Worlds (1993-95, CMP).
This is annoyingly quiet, meant to make you come to it. The payoffs
are slight, but there are some. This is considered to be jazz, most
likely because the leader plays trumpet, but it fits in closer with
his more famous father's work -- little blips and noodles, mostly
discrete. In other words, no flow, not a lot of interaction, just
some interesting sounds on a spare tableau. B-

Savina Yannatou & Primavera en Salonico: Terra Nostra
(2001 [2003], ECM).
Recorded live in Athens, an excuse to play their Eurasian, or in one
case Guadeloupean, fringe folk upbeat; Yannatou is a pure soprano,
giving this an arcane churchy feel, but that may just be a kneejerk
reaction.
B

Savina Yannatou & Primavera en Salonico: Sumiglia
(2004 [2005], ECM).
Traditional folk songs from a narrow universe centered on Greece,
extending west to Spain, north to Moldavia, east to Armenia, south to
Palestine, a geography almost united by the Ottomans, or perhaps the
Sephardim; the instrumentation strikes me as Turkish (accordion, oud,
violin, nay), the sensibility modern, but the past remains inescapable.
Yannatou's soprano blends in better, or perhaps that's because the
second voice (Lamia Bediqui) has vanished. I'm tempted to describe
Yannatou as the Björk of Thessalonika, but that probably shows more
ignorance than can be excused.
B+